I5E&THA 
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THE  EAGLE  SERIES 


STREET  &  SMITH 


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-.176—  Jack  Gordon,  Knight  Errant.    By  William  C.  Hudson 

(Barclay  North) 

.  .  175—  For  Honor's  Sake.    By  Laura  C.  Ford. 
.  .  174  -Wild  Margaret.    By  Geraldine  Fleming. 
.  .173—  A.  Bar  Sinister.     By  the  Author  of  Dr.  Jack. 
.  .172—  A  King  and  a  Coward.     By  Etfie  Adelaide  Rowlands. 
.  .  !  71—  That  Dakota  Girl.     By  Stella  Oilman. 
.   170—  A  Little  Radical.     By  Mrs.  J.  H.  Walworth. 
.  .169—  The  Trials  of  an  Actress.     By  Wenona  Gil  man: 
..  168—  Thrice  Lost,  Thrice  Won.     By  May  Agnes  Fleming. 
.  .167—  The  Manhattaners.    By  Edward:  S.  Van  Zile. 
.  .166—  The  Masked  Bridal.    By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon. 
.  .  165—  The  Road  of  the  Rough.     By  Maurice  M.  Minton. 
.  .164—  Couldn't  Say  No.    By  the  author  of  Helen's  Babies. 
..163—  A  Splendid  Egotist  '  By  Mrs.  J.  H.  Walworth 
.  .162  —  A  Man  of  the  Name  of  John.     By  Florence  King. 
.  .  1  (I  I—  Miss  Fairfax  of  Virginia.     By  the  author  of  Dr.  "Jack. 
..160—  His  Way  and  Her  'Will      Br  Frances  A>  mar  Mathews. 
.  .159—  A  Fa.r  Maid  of  Marblehead.     By  Kate  Tannatt  Woods. 
.  .)  58—  Stella,  the  Star.     By  Wenona  Gilman. 
.  .157—  'Who  Wins  ?    By  May  Agnes  Fleming 
.  .156—  A.  Soldier  Lover.     By  Edward  S.  Brooks. 
.  .155  —  Nameless  Doll      By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon. 
..154—  Husband  and  Foe.     By  Effie  Adelaide  Rowlands. 
.  .153—  Her  Son's  Wife.     By  Hazel  Wood. 
.  .152—  A  Mute  Confessor.    By  Will  N.  Harben. 
..151  —  The  Heiress  of  Glen  Gower.     By  May  Agnes  Fleming. 
..150  —  Sunset  Pass.    By  General  Charles  King. 
.  .  149—  The  Man  She  Loved.     By  Effie  Adelaide  Rowlands. 
..148  —  Will  She  Win.     By  Emma  Garrison  Jones. 
.  .147—  Under  Egyptian  Skies.   By  the  author  of  Dr.  Jack. 
.  .140—  Magdalen  s  Vow.     By  ^lay  Agnes  Fleming. 
.  .145—  Country  Lanes  and  City  Pavements      By.  Maurice  M, 

Minton. 

'orothy's  Jewels.      By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon. 
ii  .  1  43     A  Charity  Girl.     By  Effie  Adelaide  Rowlands. 


. .  142— Her  Rescue  from  the  Turks.     By  the  author  of  Dr.  JacK. 

. .  1 41— Lady  Evelyn.     By  May  Agnes  Fleming. 

. .  140 — That  Girl  ol' Johnsons'.     By  Jean  Kate  Ludluin. 

.  .139— Little  Lady  Charles.     By  Eliie  Adelaide  Rowlands 

.  138— A  Fatal  Wooing      By  Laura  Jean  Libbey. 
. .  137— A  Wedded  Widow.     By  T.  W   Hanshew. 
. .  136— The  Unseen  Bridegroom.    By  May  Agnes  Fleming. 
. .  135— Cast  Up  by  the  Tide.     By  the  author  of  Haifa  Truth. 
.  .134— Squire  John.     By  the  author  of  Dr.  Jack. 
.  .133— Max.     By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon. 
. .  132  —Whose  Was  the  Crime  ?    By  Gertrude  Warden. 
.  .131 — Nenne's  Second  Choice.     By  Adelaide  Stirling. 
. .  1 30  -A  Bitter  Bondage.     By  Bertha  M.  Clay. 
. .  129— In  Sight  of  St  Paul's.     By  Button  Vane. 
. .  128— The  Scent  of  the  Roses      By  the  author  of  Half  a  Truth. 
. .  127 — Nobod)  's  Daughter.    By  Clara  Augusta. 
.  .126— The  Girl  from  Hong  Kong.     By  the  author  of  Dr.  Jack. 
.  .125 -Devil's  Island.     By  A.  D.  Hall. 
. .  ]  24  -Prettiest  of  All.    By  Julia  Edwards. 
. .  123  -Northern  Lights.    By  A .  D.  Hall. 
. .  122— Grazia's  Mistake.     By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon. 
.  .121 — Cecile's  Marriage.    By  Lucy  Randall  Comfort. 
.  .120— The  White  Squadron.     By  T.  C.  Harbaugh. 
. .  119— An  Ideal  Love.    By  Bertha  M.  Clay. 
. .  118— Saved  From  the  Sea.    By  Richard  Duffy. 
. .  117— She  Loved  Him.     By  Charles  Garvice. 
.  .116— The  Daughter  of  the  Regiment.     By  Mary  A.  Denison, 
.  1 15— A  Fair  Revolutionist.    By  the  author  of  Dr.  Jack. 
. .  114 — Half  a  Truth.     By  a  popular  author. 
.  .113— A  Crushed  Liiy.     By  Mrs.  Alex.  McVeigh  Miller. 
..112— The  Cattle  King      By  A.  D.  Hall. 

.111— Faithful  Shirley.     By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon. 
. .  110— Whose  Wife  Is  She  ?    By  Annie  Lisle. 
.  .109— A  Heart's  Bitterness      By  Bertha  M.  Clay. 
. .  108— A  Son  of  Mars.     By  the  author  of  Dr.  Jack. 
. .  107— Citrla;  or,  Married  at  Sight.   By  Effie  Adelaide  Rowlands. 
.  .106— Lilian,  My  Lilian.    By  Mrs.  Alex.  McVeigh  Miller 
. .  105— When  London  Sleeps.    By  Chas.  Darrell. 
.  .104 — A  Proud  Dishonor.     By  Genie  Holzmeyer. 
. .  103 — The  Span  of  Life.     By  Sutton  Vane. 
.  .102— Fair  But  Faithless.     By  Bertha  M.  Clay. 


. .  101— A  Goddess  of  Africa.     By  the  author  of  Dr.  JacR. 

. .  100— Alice  Blake.      By  Francis  S.  Smith. 

;    .99 — Audrey's  Recompense.     By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon. 

. .  .98 — Claire.    By  Charles  Garvice. 

. .  .97— The  War  Reporter.     By  Warren  Edwards. 

. .  .96— The  Little  Minister.     By  J.  M.  Barrie. 

. .  .95— Twixt  Love  and  Hate.     By  Bertha  M.  Clay. 

. .  .94— Darkest  Russia      By  H   Grattan  Donnelly. 

. .  .93— A  Queen  of  Treachery.     By  T.  W.  Hanshew. 

. . .  92— Humanity.     By  Sutton  Vane. 

, .  .91— Sweet  Violet     By  Mrs.  Alex.  McVeigh  Miller. 

. .  .90 — For  Fair  Virginia.     By  Russ  Whytal. 

. .  .£9— A  Gentleman  From  Gascony.     By  Bicknell  Dudley. 

. .  .gg — Virgie's  Inheritance.     By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon. 

. .  .87 — Shenandoah.     By  J.  Perkins  Tracy. 

. .  .86— A  Widowed  Bride.     By  Lucy  Randall  Comfort. 

. .  .s5 — Lorrie;  or  Hollow  Gold.     By  Charles  Garvice. 

.  .84 -Between  Two  Hearts.     By  Bertha  M.  Clay. 
. .  .83— The  Locksmith  of  Lyons.     By  Prof  Wm.  Penry  Peck. 
. .  .62— Captain  Impudence.     By  Edwin  Milton  Royle. 
.    .8i — 'Wedded  For  aii  Hour.     By  Emma  Garrison  Jones. 
. .  .80— The  Fair  Maid  of  Fez.     By  the  author  of  Dr.  Jack. 
. .  .79— Marjorie  Deane.     By  Bt  rtlia  M.  Clay. 

.78 -The'  Yankee  Champion.     By  Sylvanus  Cobb,  Jr. 
. .  .77 — Tina.      By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon. 
. .  .76    Mavourneen.      From  the  celebrated  play. 
. .  .75— Under  Fire.     By  T.  P.  .James. 
..  .74— The  Cotton  kii:g      By  Sutton  Vane. 
. .  .73— Tne  Marquis.     By  Charles  Garvice. 
. .  .72— Wilful  Winnie.     By  Harriet  Sherburne. 
. .  .71— The  Spider's  Web.'     By  the  author  of  Dr.  Jack. 
. .   70— In  Love's  Crucible.     By  Bertha  M.  Clay. 
... 69  —Mis  Perfect  Trust.     By  a  popular  author. 
. .  .68  -The  Little  Cuban  Rebel.     By  Edna  Win  field. 
. .  .67—  Gismonda,     By  Victorien  Sardou. 
.  ..66— Witch  Hazel.      By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon. 
. .  .65— Won  By  the  Sword.     By  J.  Perkins  Tracy. 
.  .  .61— Dora  Tenney.     By  Mrs.  Alex.  McVeigh  Miller. 
. .  .63 — Lawyer  Bell  from  Boston.     By  Robert  Loe  Tyler. 
. .  .62 — Stella  Sterling.     By  Julia  Edwards 
.  .  .61 — La  Tosea.      Ly  Victorien  Sardou. 
.  .  .60— The  County  Fair.     By  Neil  Burgess. 
. .  .59— Gladys  Greye.      By  Bertha  M.  Clay. 
. . .  58 — Major  Matterson  of  Kentucky.    By  the  author  of  Dr.  Jack. 

.  .57— Rosamond.      By  Mrs.  Alex.  McVeigh  Miller. 
. .  .56— The  Dispatch  Bearer.     By  Warren  Edwards. 
. .  .55— Thrice  Wedded.     By  Mrs'  Georgie  Sheldon. 
. .  .54 — Cleopatra.     By  Tictorien  Sardou. 
. .  .53— The  Old  Homestead.     By  Denman  Thompson. 
. .  .52— Woman  Against  Woman.'     By  Effie  Adelaide  Rowlands. 

. . 5J— The  Price  He  Paid    By  E.  Werner. 


. .  .50 — Her  Ransom.     By  Charles  Garvice. 

. .  .49— None  But  the  Brave.     By  Robert  Lee  Tyler. 

'•  iiother  .Man's  \\ <H\     By  Bertha  M.  Clay. 
. .  .47— The  Colonel  By  Brevet.     By  the  author  of  Dr.  Jack. 
.    .46 -Off  With  the  Old  Love.     By  Mrs.  M.  V.  Victor. 
. .  .45— A  Yale  Man.     By  Robert  Lee  Tyler. 
. .  .44— That  Dowdy.     By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon. 
. .  .43— Little  Coquette  Bonnie.    By  Mrs.  Alex.  McVeigh  Miller. 
. .  .42— Another  Woman's  Husband.     By  Bertha  M.  Clay. 
. .  .41 — Her  Heart's  Desire.     By  Charles  Garvice. 
. .  .40— Monsieur  Bob.     By  the  author  of  Dr.  Jack. 
. .  .39 — The  Colonel's  Wife.     By  Warren  Edwards. 
. .  .38— The  Nabob  of  Singapore.     By  the  author  of  Dr.  Jack. 
. .  .37— The  Heart  of  Virginia.    By  J.  Perkins  Tracy. 
. .  .36— Fedora.     By  Victorien  Sardou. 
. .  .35— The  Great  Mogul.     By  the  author  of  Dr.  Jack. 
. .  .34— Pretty  Geraldine.      By  Mrs.  Alex.  McVeigh  Miller. 
. .  .33— Mrs.  Bob.     By  the  author  of  Dr.  Jack. 
. .  .32— The  Blockade  Runner.     By  J.  Perkins  Tracy. 
. .  .31-  A  Siren's  Love.     By  Robert  Lee  Tyler. 
. .  .30— Baron  Sain.     By  the  author  of  Dr.  Jack. 
. .  .29 — Theodora,     By  Victorien  Sardou. 
. .  .28— Miss  Caprice.     By  the  author  of  Dr.  Jack. 
...27 — Estelle?s  Millionaire  Lover.     By  Julia  Edwards. 
. .  .26— Capttiin  Tom.      By  the  author  of  Dr.  Jack. 
. .  .25— Little  Southern  Beauty.     By  Mrs.  Alex.  McVeigh  Miller 
. .  .24— A  Wasted  Love.      By  diaries  Garvice. 
. .  .23 — Miss  Pauline  of  New  York.     By  the  author  of  Dr.  Jaok. 
. .  .22 — Elaine.     By  Charles  Garvice. 
. .  .21— A  Heart's  Idol.    By  Bertha  M.  Clay. 
. .  .20— The  Senator's  Bride.    By  Mrs.  Alex.  McVeigh  Miller. 
. . .  11) —Mr.  Lake  of  Chicago.     By  Harry  DuBois  Milman. 
. . .  J8—  Dr.  Jack's  AVife.     By  the* author  of  Dr.  Jack. 
. .  .17 — Leslie's  Loyalty.     By  Charles  Garvice. 
...16— The    Fatal'  Card.      By   I! addon   Chambers  and   B.    C. 

Stephenson. 

...15— Dr.  Jack.     By  St.  George  Rathborne. 
. . .  14— Violet  Lisle.     By  Bertha  M.  Clay. 
. .  .  13— The  Little  Widow.     By  Julia  Edwards. 
. .  .12 — Edrie's  Legacy.     By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon. 
. . .  11— The  Gypsy's  Daughter.     By  Bertha  M.  Clay. 
. .  .10 — Little  Sunshine.    By  Francis  S.  Smith. 

9— The  Virginia  Heiress.     By  May  .Agnes  Fleming. 

8 — Beautiful  but  Poor.     By  Julia  Edwards. 

. . .  .7 — Two  Keys.     I'y  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon. 

' 6— The  Midnight  Marriage.     By  A.  M.  Douglas. 

5— The  Senator's  Favorite.     Mrs.  Alex.  McVeigh  Miller. 

!  -    i'or  a  Woman's  Honor.     By  Bertha  M.  Clay! 


VIOLET  LISLE. 


BY 

BERTHA  M.  CLAY, 

AUTHOR  OP 

'ANOTHER  WOMAN'S  HUSBAND,"    <  'ANOTHER  MAN'S  WIFE," 

"A  HEART'S  IDOL,"     "IN  LOVE'S  CRUCIBLE,"   "FOR 

ANOTHER'S  SIN,"    "A  HEART'S   BITTERNESS," 

"MARJORIE  DEANE,"  "GLADYS  GREYJL" 


NEW  YORK: 
STREET  &  SMITH,  Publishers, 

31  Rose  Street. 


.Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1892, 

Bv  STRKKT  <fe  SMITH, 
ID  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  CQUgresa.UitJWashiugton,  D.  <X 


VIOLET  LISLE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A  VILLAGE    LOVE. 

"  Will  you  forgive  my  presumption,  Miss  Violet  ?" 

*'  I  have  nothing  to  forgive,  Mr.  Jenkins  ;  the  love  of  so 
good  and  true  a  man  as  you  must  be  an  honor  to  any  girl." 

The  two  speakers  stood  under  the  spreading  branches  of 
a  great  oak.  Near  by  stood  the  ruins  of  Penarth  Abbey, 
its  ivy  mantled  walls  gilded  by  the  glowing  rays  of  a 
warm  autumn  sun,  and  the  long  shadows  cast  by  the 
famous  Penarth  oaks  falling  in  fantastic  shapes  over  its 
uneven  contours.  It  was  plain  from  the  sketch-book  in 
the  girl's  hand  that  she  had  been  there  with  an  artist's 
purpose.  A  glance  at  the  man  told  that  he  was  a  curate — 
a  fact  betrayed  no  less  by  his  air  than  by  his  garb. 

There  was  deep  distress  on  her  sweet,  fair  young  face, 
and  bravely  subdued  agony  on  his.  It  was  more  than 
man  could  bear  to  lose  all  hope  of  ever  winning  the  pre- 
cious prize  of  her  love,  even  though  he  had  battled  man- 
fully against  giving  hope  a  foothold  in  his  breast. 

"And  it  could  never  be?"  he  asked,  after  a  painful 
pause. 

"  No,  for  I  do  not  love  you.  I  respect  you,  like  you 
very,  very  much,  would  wish  you  for  a  friend  always.  I 
am  so  sorry,  Mr.  Jenkins,'1  and  the  ready  tears  of  sympa- 
thy fille^  her  de,  p  blue  eyes. 

"  Oh,  <  '  n  t,  please  don't !"  he  cried.     "  I  ought  never  to 

M65756 


6  A   VILLAGE  LOVE. 

have  spoken  to  you.  I  knew  very  well  that  you  could 
never  be  for  me  ;  but  I  loved  you  and— and— please  don't 
cry  for  me,  Miss  Violet.  I  am  not  worthy  of  you— I  knew 
that.  Please  don't  think  I  ever  fancied  that  I  was  worthy 
of  you. " 

"  You  are  worthy  of  any  woman,"  she  said,  earnestly. 

It  is  like  you  to  say  so,  but  1  know  all  the  distance  be- 
tween us.  We  are  not  of  the  same  social  caste.  I  am 
the  son  of  a  tradesman  ;  you  are  in  the  line  of  dukes  and 
earls." 


wouyiever  havered rto/speak  to  you,  but  I  thought- 
no,  I/did  ftofc -tflink.  :  I  iaSe'd-to  think  that  perhaps  if  I  had 
some  wealth  to  offer  your  father  he  might  forgive  my 
birth  if  you  could  find  it  possible  to  love  me.  But  I  knew 
(town  m  my  heart,  that  you  could  not  love  me  No  we 
should  never  have  fitted  our  lives.  You  are  destined  for 

something  great,  and  I  for " 

fie  turned  away  and  suppressed  a  sob  as  he  thought  of 
tne  life  with  her  that  could  never  be  anything  but  a 
rudely  disturbed  dream. 

She  laid  her  hand  gently  on  his  arm.  The  touch  was  so 
pitiful  that  he  turned  and  tried  to  laugh. 

'Don't  think   I   have  gone  mad,  Miss  Violet,"  he  said 
*i7r  rnj   alk  of  wealth  ;  bu<>  I  would   like  you   to   know 
hat  I  have  not  been  so  daring  as  to  let  my  heart  tell   its 
secret  without  some  justification.     I  was  not  going  to  ask 
you  to   share  the  poverty  of  my  curacy.     Not   that  I  be 
leved  it  would   make  any  difference  with  you,  for  I  am 
sure  that  if  you  loved  me  you  Would   have  me  in  my  pov- 
erty as   readily  as   in   my  wealth ;  but   your   father   is   a, 
ud   man,  as  he  has  a  right  to  be,  and   he  might  have 
considered   me  even   in   my  low  origin  if   he  had  known 
I  was  not  poor.     The  death  of  a  distant  relative   has 
?ft  me  with  twenty-five  thousand  pounds." 

Oh,  Martin  Jenkins !"  cried   Violet,    -joyfully      "Is   it 
really  true  ?" 
"Quite  true." 
"  And  you  can  get  away  from  here,  where  Mr  Svlvestre 

can  no  longer  treat  you  like  a-like  a » 

curate'"    he    fillPPJi^    for    her,    laughing 


Mr.  Sylvestre  was  the  rector. 

"  Yes, "  she  assented.    "  And  you  really  are  a  rich  man  ! 


ilLLAtitiLU*  7 

glad  !  You  will  go  away  from  here,  won't 
you  ?" 

"Are  you  so  anxious  to  be  rid  of  me,  then?"  he  asked, 
sadly  enough,  for  he  ^knew  that  wh'ile  she  was  thinking 
only  of  his  happiness  it  was  the  most  perfect  proof  that 
si  10  did  not  and  would  not  care  for  him  in  the  way  he 
asked. 

"Oh,  no,"  she  answered,  quickly;  "but  I  have  been  so 
indignant  at  the  way  Mr.  Sylvestre  treats  you." 

"  He  won't  treat  me  so  now.  I  think  I  will  stay.  I 
may  be  of  use  to  you  some  day — who  can  tell  ?  You  will 
let  me  be  your  friend,  will  you  not?" 

She  gave  him  her  hand  frankly. 

"I  could  not  ask  a  better.  I  am  glad  to  have  you  for  a 
friend." 

"Then  let  us  be  friends,  pud  I  will  never  trouble  you 
with  my  love  again.  But  if  you  should  need  a  friend  at 
any  time  will  you  call  upon  me  ?" 

"Gladly." 

"Then  good-by.  And  don't  feel  badly  for  me.  I  am 
happier  for  having  loved  you,  and  I  shall  never  regret  it." 

He  held  her  hand  for  a  moment,  and  was  gone. 

"  How  good  and  true  he  is  I1'  she  murmured  to  herself  ; 
"but  I  could  not  love  him,  and  I  should  have  made  him 
unhappy.  I  am  so  glad  he  is  rich.  To  think  of  Martin 
Jenkins  being  rich  !"  and  with  half  a  sigh  and  half  a  smile 
she  turned  in  the  direction  opposite  to  that  which  he  had 
gone,  and  sauntered  leisurely  through  the  great  oaks  of 
Penarth  toward  home. 

No  one  could  look  at  Violet  Lisle  and  wonder  that  Mar- 
tin Jenkins,  the  poor  curate,  or  any  other  man,  should 
love  her.  She  had  hardly  passed  into  womanhood  yet, 
and  the  free,  careless  grace  and  simpliicty  of  her  child- 
hood were  still  visible  in  her  every  movement ;  but  withal 
she  was  endowed  with  suc'h  a  charm  of  beauty  as  seldom 
falls  to  the  lot  of  mortal. 

It  was  a  beauty  that  bewildered  by  its  frankness.  One 
looked  at  her  and  wondered  if  she  would  not  presently 
vanish  as  a  dream  creature,  so  impossible  did  it  seem 
that  such  fairy-like  beauty  could  be  real.  But  there  was 
nothing  unsubstantial  in  her  charms,  for  the  slender,  yet 
rounded  form  was  the  embodiment  of  that  lissome  grace 
which  belongs  to  perfect  health  ;  and  the  milk  and  roses 
of  her  complexion  were  rendered  more  delightfully  at- 
tractive by  the  cherry  lips  and  violet-blue  eyes,  so  clear 
and  sparkling 


6  A  VILLAGE  LOV& 

Her  merely  physical  beauty  must  have  been  a  joy, 
though  it  had  been  soulless  ;  but  when  to  it  was  added  a 
nature  so  pure  that  it  sweetened  all  the  life  about  her,  and 
so  full  of  hidden  depths  that  one  forgot  the  outer  in  the 
inner  woman,  there  resulted  a,  creature  so  wondrous  that 
she  became  known  only  to  be  worshiped. 

Even  her  father,  so  poor  in  his  rich  descent,  so  proud  in 
his  poverty,  so  cold  and  haughty  in  his  self-isolated  life, 
worshiped  while  he  ruled  her.  As  he  said  himself  some- 
times in  his  bitterness  his  income  was  not  enough  to  de- 
cently starve  on,  but  he  had  always  sedulously  taken  care 
that  she  should  never  see  the  grinding  side  of  his  pov- 
erty. It  was  as  if  he  would  have  her  life  as  care-free  as 
if  she  had  belonged  to  that  richer  branch  of  the  Lisles 
who  wrote  earl  and  countess  with  their  names,  and  who 
had  lived  as  if  Melville  Lisle  had  no  existence. 

He  would  have  isolated  his  peerless  daughter  from  the 
common  herd  had  he  -been  able,  but  there  was  such  a  joy 
in  her  very  living  that  seemed  to  draw  life  to  her,  and 
from  her  childhood  she  had  mixed  with  the  village  folk 
as  freely  as  any  low-born  maiden  among  them,  and  yet 
there  had  always  been  a  distance  between  them  only 
partly  of  the  father's  making.  It  had  been  in  the  very 
nature  of  things. 

She  could  not  have  been  one  of  them,  for  with  all  her 
frankness  and  simplicity  and  gentle  humility  of  soul, 
there  was  always  that  in  her  which  gave  to  her  manner 
the  graciousness  of  a  queen  rather  than  the  equality  of  a 
comrade.  But  no  one  resented  it,  and  everybody  loved 
her. 

Martin  Jenkins,  urged  on  to  an  avowal  of  his  feelings 
by  the  overmastering,  devouring  love  that  gave  him  no 
peace,  would  himself  have  been  shocked  had  he  been  told 
by  her  that  she  would  marry  him.  He  would  as  soon 
have  thought  of  being  linked  to  an  angel,  and  yet  he  could 
not  but  ask,  as  yeoman  and  squire  had  tremblingly  asked 
before  him. 

She  had  never  told  her  father  of  these  offers  of  mar- 
riage, for  she  knew  he  would  look  upon  them  as  so  many 
insults  to  his  cherished  name  and  proud  blood,  and  would 
have  fallen  into  a  passion  of  impotent  anger  over  them. 
Only  Goody  White,  .once  her  nurse  and  now  the  maid-of- 
all-work,  was  her  confidante,  and  that  dear  old  soul,  even 
while  she  had  the  disdain  of  the  father  for  all  low-born 
suitors,  was  nevertheless  delighted  with  each  new  offer- 
ing laid  at  the  shrine  of  her  darling. 


GUY  DARLINGTON. 


CHAPTER   II. 

GUY  DARLINGTON. 

It  was  a  charming  afternoon,  and  the  poor  gentleman's 
beautiful  daughter  enjoyed  it  with  all  the  zest  of  perfect 
health.  After  the  first  sorrow  for  Martin  Jenkins  had 
passed  away  on  the  crisp  autumn  air  she  tripped  along 
more  rapidly,  now  warbling  the  snatch  of  some  old  ballad, 
now  stooping  to  pick  a  delicate  shrub,  or  reaching  up  to 
pluck  a  leaf  of  richer  coloring  than  she  had  seen. 

She  passed  out  of  the  oaks  into  the  open  sunshine  of  the 
road,  and  that  delighted  her  as  much  as  the  flickering 
shadows  of  the  woods  had  done.  Everything  was  a 
source  of  pleasure  to  Violet.  She  looked  up  laughingly 
at  a  squirrel  that  sat  watching  her  from  his  lofty  perch  ; 
she  called  a  merry  ugood  by"  to  a  rabbit  that  dashed  in  a 
panic  across  the  road  into  the  shelter  of  the  woods. 

At  the  little  bridge  over  the  brook  she  stopped  and 
leaned  on  the  rail,  searching  the  dancing  waters  for  a 
darting  trout  that  had  its  lair  under  a  rock  there,  but  the 
trout  would  not  come  forth,  and  she  started  on  again. 

Then  she  noticed  a  plank  in  the  bridge  loose  and  likely 
to  be  misplaced  dangerously  by  the  next  crossing  horse. 
It  ought  to  be  put  in  place.  She  looked  around  for  some 
man,  but  there  was  no  man  in  sight,  and  she  looked  in- 
quiringly at  her  gloved  hands,  and  from  them  at  the 
heavy  plank. 

Then  she  smiled  rather  gleefully,  as  if  it  were  a  very 
pleasant  thing  to  have  the  opportunity  to  do  a  thing 
which  no  man  in  Penarth  would  let  her  do  if  he  had 
known  it.  She  pulled  off  her  gloves  from  her  dainty 
white  hands,  with  their  tapering  fingers  and  pink  nails, 
and  began  studying  the  plank. 

k'  I  suppose,"  she  said  to  herself,  "that  a  man  would  just 
take  hold  of  it  and  put  it  in  its  place.  Now,  I— 

She  turned  her  head  to  listen,  for  it  seemed  to  her  that 
she  heard  the  gallop  of  a  horse.  Yes,  it  was  quite  certain 
that  she  did.  Should  she  try  to  put  the  plank  in  place,  or 
should  she  merely  warn  the  horseman  of  his  danger? 
Woll,  it  was  very  likely  that  the  horseman  would  be  some 
acquaintance,  and  it  would  be  a  pleasure  to  ha^e  accom- 
plished it  without  hia  help. 

She  immediately  stooped  and  did  as  she  supposed  a  man 


10  OUT  DA RLING TON, 

would  do,  "just  took  hold  of  it,"  but  the  plank  was  heavy, 
and  it  was  caught  in  some  way,  and — well,  the  horseman 
was  coining  around  the  turn  while  she  was  still  striving 
to  do  something  with  the  refractory  plank. 

She  ceased  her  efforts  then,  and  stood  up,  a  flush  on  her 
round  cheek,  and  a  smile  on  her  lips.  She  stood  in  the 
center  of  the  bridge  and  raised  her  hand  to  stop  the  rider ; 
then  she  realized  that  he  was  a  stranger  to  her,  and  the 
flush  of  exertion  deepened  into  one  of  confusion. 

The  new-comer  was  a  stalwart,  handsome  young  man, 
who  sat  his  horse  like  a  centaur,  and  brought  him  to  his 
haunches  by  the  suddenness  with  which  he  checked  him 
at  Violet's  gesture. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,1'  said  Violet,  "but  the  bridge  is 
dangerous.  A  plank  is  loose,  and  I  was  trying  to  replace 
it." 

For  a  moment  the  young  man  stared  at  her  out  of  a  pair 
of  handsome  dark  eyes,  with  an  eager,  incredulous  sort  of 
admiration.  Then  he  recollected  himself,  and  lifted  his 
hat,  saying,  confusedly : 

"You  are  very  kind." 

She  dropped  her  eyes  before  his  ardent  but  in  no  wise 
bold  gaze,  and  said  : 

"If  you  will  wait  a  moment  I  will  have  it  in  place," 
and  she  stooped  again. 

But  he,  with  a  low  cry  of  dismay,  sprang  from  his 
horse  and  cried  out : 

"Oh,  I  beg  of  you,  do  not  think  of  it.  Don't  touch  it 
with  those  little  hands.  Let  me.  Wait  until  I  have  tied 
Dick.  Please,  please,  do  not." 

He  was  so  earnest,  there  was  so  much  beseeching  in  hi 
mellow  xroice,  that  ghe  desisted  and  watched  him  as  li/ 
tied  his  horse  to  a  sapling. 

"This  is  it,"  she  said  as  he  came  forward,  and  again  sir 
found  her  eyes  drooping  before  his. 

He  bent,  and  she  admired*  the  easy  strength  with  which 
he  tossed  the  plank  out  to  disengage  it,  and  then  tossed  it 
into  its  place  again. 

"It  must  be  pleasant  to  have  such  strength,"  she  said, 
with  a  frank  admiration  that  made  him  flush  with  pleas- 
ure. 

"To  be  told  so  by  you  is  the  pleasure,"  he  said,  quickly. 

She  blushed  more  at  his  ardor  than  at  his  words,  and 
turned  tr. 

for  helph 


-V<7TOAT.  11 

<ion't  go — I   mean  don't  go   with   your   hand 
•  ng  you,"  he  stammered. 

laughed  with  the  frankness  of  a  child. 
"  My  hand  doesn't  hurt  me,"  she   said.     "Why  should 

Then  he  smiled  with  a  frankness  equal  to  her  own,  and 
noticed  involuntarily  that  his  face  was  handsomer 
i ban  ever  when  he  smiled. 

"  I  was  afraid  a  splinter  might  have  run  into   it.     No  ?" 
-he  shook  her  head,  still   smiling.     "  Well,   it  might, 
know.     Don't  think  I'm  rude  ;  hut  do  you  live  here?" 
u  Yes,  in  the  village." 

"hesitated,  looked  embarrassed,  then  said,  boldly : 

rhaps  you  saved  my  life " 

fthe  laughed  merrily. 

•h,  no." 

'  But,"  he  persisted,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  in  spite 
u  effort  to  seem  very  serious,  "my  horse   might  have 
his  foot  into  the  crack,  I  might  have  been  thrown,  and 
never  can  tell  what  the  consequences  of  a  fall  may  be. 
i  sure  I  owe  you  my  life.     I  am  very  grateful" — there 
!d  be  no  doubt  of  that — "and  I  would   like  to — to  call 
upon  you  if  I  may.     Now  you  are  going  to  say  no.     I   can. 
see  it  in  your  face.     I  know  it  is  awfully  bold  of  me  ;  but 
really  we  should  become  acquainted  in  time  anyhow,  for 
I  have  come  here  to  live." 
She  looked  her  surprise  and  interest. 
"Yes,"  he  said,  in  answer  to  her  expression,  "I  am  Guy 
Darlington." 

"  Lord  Darlington  !"  and  she  shrank  back  a  little. 
"Yes,"  he  answered,  noting  her  slight  action  with  won- 
der ;  "  and  won't  you  tell  me  now  who  you  are  ?   I  thought 
at  first  that  you  were  a  nymph  of  the  woods,  but  you  are 
mortal,  are  you  not  ?" 

She  laughed  again,  and  then,  with  an  air  of  reserve  and 
dignity  that  sat  well  upon  her  said,  quietly : 

"I  am  the  daughter  of  Melville  Lisle,  a  poor  gentleman 
of  the  village." 

The  "poor"  he  ignored,  and  demanded,  eagerly : 
"Of  the  Lisles  of  G-ranthorpe ?" 
"Cousins,  I  think." 

"Then  we  ought  to  be  friends,  for  we  have  two  lawsuits 
with  the  Lisles  of  Granthorpe." 
Violet  laughed. 

"  Is  that  a  good  ground  for  friendship  ?" 
"The  very  best.     Mother  and  I  may  call,  may  we  not?" 


12  GUY  DARLINGTON. 

Violet  would  have  given  anything  to  have  answered  the 
promptings  of  her  heart,  and  said  yes  to  his  question,  but 
she  stifled  the  desire,  and  looked  at  handsome,  winning 
Guy  Darlington  bravely  and  earnestly. 

"It  is  better  to  be  honest  with  you,  Lord  Darlington," 
she  said.  "My  father  is  a  poor  man.  Of  as  good  blood 
as  your  own,  he  would  tell  you  ;  but  so  poor  that  he  has 
hidden  himself  in  this  little  village,  to  be  away  from  his 
kind.  He  would  not  welcome  your  coming,  and  he  would 
be  made  unhappy  by  it.  I  am  sorry,  for  I  would  have 
been  glad.'1 

In  all  his  life  among  the  beauties  of  England  and  of  the 
gay  centers  of  Europe,  Guy  Darlington  had  seen  nothing 
like  the  wondrous  beauty  and  charm  of  this  pure  and 
noble  young  creature  who  said  to  him  so  frankly  and  in- 
nocently that  she  would  have  liked  to  know  him  if  it  had 
been  possible.  He  could  not  have  told  why  he  revolted 
against  the  fate  that  would  prevent  his  ever  seeing  her 
again  ;  but  he  knew  that  he  could  not  let  it  be  so. 

"But  that  is  cruel,"  he  exclaimed,  "and  I  will  not  sub- 
mit to  it." 

She  looked  at  him  wonderingly,  and  a  little  thrill  of 
happiness,  which  she  did  not  comprehend,  stole  over  her. 

"Why,"  he  went  on,  vehemently,  "should  you  and  I  not 
know  each  other  ?  It  may  be  very  little  to  you,  but  to 
me " 

He  suddenly  stopped,  aware  that  he  was  saying  strange 
things,  considering  the  brief  time  of  their  acquaintance. 
She  was  too  unconventional,  too  unconscious  of  the  nature 
of  her  own  heart-throbs  to  realize  all  that  his  vehement 
words  meant,  and  she  answered  his  broken  sentence  with 
a  sweet  gravity  : 

"It  is  not  very  little  to  me,  Lord  Darlington.  I"  would 
like  so  much  to  know  you  ;  but  don't  you  see  that  it  can- 
not be  ?  My  ancestry  is  as  good  as  yours,  the  name  is  un- 
stained ;  but  we  are  of  the  branch  that  has  nothing  but  the 
name  and  the  blood,  and  we  can  never  mingle  with  you, 
because  we  are  poor.  To  try  to  bring  it  about  would  be  to 
cause  misery  to  my  father." 

"I  do  not  wish  that,"  said  Guy,  with  an  unmistakable 
earnestness.  "Then  I  am  not  to  call?  It  shall  be  as  you 
say  ;  but  at  least  you  do  not  regret  saving  my  life  ?" 

Violet  smiled,  but  she  was  thinking  of  the  strangeness 
of  the  fate  that  had  put  a  sordid  barrier  of  money  be- 
tween the  acquaintance  of  two  persons,  who  themselves 


Q UY  DARL1SG TON.  13 

scorned  it.     She  was  frankly  sorry  that  she  was  to  see  no 
more  of  the  gay  and  handsome  Guy  Darlington. 

"  I  do  not  regret  telling  you  of  the  loose  plank." 

"  And  you  do  not  regret  the  time  you  have  wasted  talk- 
ing with  me  ?" 

u  No,  I  am  glad  to  have  met  you.  You  are  the  first 
gentleman  besides  my  father  I  have  ever  talked  with,  and 
it  has  been  very  pleasant." 

How  innocent  and  pure  she  was  ! 

"Will  you  tell  me  your  name?"  he  asked,  in  a  low 
voice. 

"Violet,"  she  answered,  and  looking  up  their  eyes  met. 

"Violet,"  he  repeated,  softly,  "and  my  name  is  Guy." 

"Guy,"  she  repeated  under  her  breath,  and  his  heart 
gave  a  great  leap. 

He  wondered  ever  after  why  it  was  that  he  did  not  then 
cry  out  the  words  that  crowded  to  his  lips — "Violet,  I 
love  you  !" 

As  it  was  he  was  dumb,  and  wondered  at  himself  for  it. 
It  seemed  a  long  time  that  neither  of  them  spoke,  for  she, 
too,  was  as  if  under  a  spell,  though  the  words  had  not 
come  to  her  as  to  him,  and  she  was  in  a  sort  of  maze  at 
her  own  tumultuous  feelings. 

"Good-by,  then,"  she  said  at  last,  and  slowly  as  if  she 
did  not  like  to  go. 

Then  he  sought  about  for  some  excuse  to  detain  her 
longer,  and  his  eye  fell  on  the  sketch-book,  and  he  said  : 

"Have  you  been  sketching?" 

"I  have  begun  a  sketch  of  the  old  abbey,"  she  answered. 

"May  I  look  at  it?"  he  asked,  and  she  frankly  handed 
the  book  to  him. 

He  turned  the  leaves  slowly,  looking  at  each  sketch 
and  seeing  none  of  them,  for  his  mind  was  full  of  her. 
When  he  came  to  the  last  page  and  saw  only  a  broken  out- 
line a  light  of  joy  jumped  into  his  eye,  and  he  said  : 

"You  will  have  to  go  again." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  shall  go  every  afternoon  until  it  is  finished. 
I  did  not  accomplish  much  this  afternoon  ;  I  was  inter- 
rupted," and  she  blushed  when  she  thought  of  what  the 
interruption  had  been. 

The  thought  of  Martin's  offer  of  his  hand  had  not  made 
her  blush  before,  and  she  found  herself  wondering 
vaguely  why  it  should  do  so  now.  But  Guy  thought 
nothing  of  the  blush.  He  gave  her  back  her  book,  and 
took  her  hand,  and  said  good-by  with  such  a  look  of  hope 
in  his  eves  that  she  wondered  at  it. 


H  A  SUDDEN  WOOING. 

Then  he  leaped  on  his  horse,  and  was  gone,  and  she 
walked  home  with  a  feeling  of  sadness  in  her  heart,  for  it 
seemed  to  her  that  he  had  gone  off  with  less  care  to  meet 
again  than  she  had,  though  how  a  meeting  qpuld  have 
come  about  she  did  not  know. 

She  said  nothing  to  Goody  White  of  this  meeting,  for 
what  would  be  the  use?  And  she  said  nothing  of  it  to  her 
father,  for  again  what  would  be  the  use  ? 


CHAPTER  III. 

A  SUDDEN  WOOING. 

The  next  afternoon  Violet  did  not  go  singing  and  trip- 
ping the  way  to  the  abbey.  She  was  strangely  quiet,  yet 
not  unhappy.  She  went  as  she  had  returned  on  the  day 
before,  and  she  found  herself  lingering  on  the  bridge  and 
thinking  of  the  very  words  that  had  been  spoken  there. 

And  when  she  had  seated  herself  and  begun  her  sketch- 
ing her  pencil  did  not  mote  very  swiftly,  and  it  came  into 
her  mind  that  the  ruins  before  her  belonged  to  Guy,  Lord 
Darlington.  That  was  a  sort  of  pleasure  to  her,  and  she 
wondered  why.  Strange,  too,  how  she  would  think  of 
him  as  Guy,  instead  of  the  more  formal  Lord  Darlington. 

Then  there  came  a  crushing  of  the  leaves  from  a  dis- 
tance behind  her,  and  she  knew  some  one  was  coming. 
Some  one  from  the  village,  she  said  to  herself,  but  her 
color  was  coming  and  going,  and  her  heart  was  beating, 
and  she  would  not  look  around.  Then,  whoever  it  wt*s 
stood  over  her  and  looked  down,  and  she  felt  the  blood 
forsaking  her  face  ;  but  she  looked  up  only  slowly. 

It  was  Guy  Darlington,  and  it  had  been  in  his  mind  to 
seek  her  there  and  say  something  to  show  that  he  was  sur  • 
prised  ;  but  when  she  looked  up  at  him,  and  he  saw  into 
her  eyes,  that  little  deceit  of  pretending  he  had  not  ex- 
pected to  see  her,  passed  out  of  his  mind,  and  his  face  was 
as  white  as  hers,  as  he  said,  softly  : 

"I  hoped  to  find  you  here,  Violet." 

tl  I  did  not  hope,1'  she  said,  "but  I  am  glad." 

He  made  no  answer  to  that,  but  sat  down  not  far  away, 
and  looked  at  her,  she  trying  to  use  her  pencil  as  if  he  had 
not  been  there,  and  at  last  putting  it  down  and  folding  her 
hands  in  her  lap.  Then  she  turned  and  looked  into  lii.s 
face,  and  saw  what  she  had  known  without  seeing,  that 
he  was  looking  at  her.  She  looked  a  while,  and 
dropped  her  eyes, 


A  SUDDEN  WOOING.  15 

u  Violet,"  he  said,  and  there  was  a  faint  sound  as  if  it 
were  difficult  for  him  to  speak.  She  looked  up  at  him 
•in,  and  saw  on  his  face  an  expression  of  pain  and 
almost  of  fear. 

"  What  is  it?"  she  asked. 

"  I  find  I  must  say  something  to  you,  and  I  would  like 
you  to  hear  me  through.  Will  you?" 

Something  of  the  fear  that  was  on  his  face  rose  up  to 
hers,  but  she  answered  that  she  would. 

wi  When  I  left  you  yesterday  I  intended  to  come  here  to 
lind  you.  I  told  myself  that  I  would  come  here  to-day 
and  every  day  until  perhaps,  if  it  was  to  be,  I  could  make 
you  love  me  as  I  love  you.  Please  don't  look  frightened, 
dear.  I  will  not  say  a  word  that  I  ought  not  to  say  ;  1 
will  stop  when  you  tell  me  to  stop  ;  I  will  go  when  you 
say  to  go.  I  knew  that  it  was  riot  usual  to  love  in  a  mo- 
ment, and  I  could  not  expect  you  to  feel  as  I  felt— you 
might  never  feel  so.  I  had  no  right  to  hope  it — no  reason 
to  hope  it.  I  would  have  liked  to  go  to  your  home  and 
have  the  sanction  of  your  father  to  our  acquaintance  ;  but 
you  explained  that  to  me,  and  I  knew  you  were  right,  and 
that  it  would  be  the  death  of  my  hopes  to  try  to  woo  you 
in  that  way.  I  had  it  in  mind  to  come  here  until  you 
could  love  me,  if  it  wras  to  be  ;  but  when  I  come  near  to 
you,  and  feel  your  purity  and  innocence,  I  feel  that  I  can- 
not deceive  you  even  that  much,  and  so  I  say  to  you  now 
that  I  love  you,  and  ask  you  to  be  my  wife.  Don't  answer 
too  quickly.  Don't  say  no  to  me.  Think  it  over,  and  try 
to  find  some  hope  for  me  in  the  future.  I  know  it  is  sud- 
den and  unusual,  but  I  will  wait  until  you  can  learn  to 
think  more  calmly  of  it.  I  will  leave  you  now,  and  I  will 
come  to-morrow." 

He  rose  to  go,  and  her  eyes  followed  his  face,  and  when 
he  looked  down  into  them  he  saw  a  strange  beseeching  in 
them. 

"What  is  it,  Violet?"  he  asked. 

"Don't  go,  Guy." 

The  next  instant  he  was  by  her  side,  and  was  holding 
one  of  her  little  hands  in  his.  They  sat  for  many  minutes 
in  silence,  and  he  was  not  yet  sure  of  what  she  was  going 
to  say  to  him,  only  she  did  not  take  her  hand  from  him. 
Presently  she  spoke. 

u  It  is  all  very  strange,  but  I  think  I  love  you,  Guy. " 

He  had  not  the  boldness  to  do  more  than  kiss  the  little 
hand  he  held.  There  was  a  long  and  happy  silence,  and 
then  Guy  spoke. 


16  AT  FBNARTH  CASTLE. 

"  What  shall  I  do,  dear  ?  Shall  I  go  with  you  to  your 
father  and  tell  him  what  we  have  done  ?" 

"  If  that  will  be  the  best  way,  yes." 

"  Perhaps,  since  he  is  proud  and  sensitive,  he  would  like 
it  better  if  my  mother  and  I  were  to  call  on  him  and  re- 
quest the  honor  of  your  hand,"  and  Guy  smiled  proudly 
on  the  wonderful  face  upturned  to  him. 

"  It  shall  be  as  you  say,  Guy.     I  have  only  one  fear." 

"And  what  is  that?" 

"  Could  anybody  understand  how  we  could  know  each 
other  for  the  first  time  yesterday  afternoon  and v 

"  Love  each  other  like  madness  to-day  ?  No.  But  do 
you,  Violet,  now  that  you  have  had  time  to  think  of  it,  do 
you  love  me  so  that  to  lose  me  would  be  to  lose  the  dear- 
est thing  in  this  world  ?" 

''Yes,"  she  answered,  gazing  up  into  his  eyes,  "if  I  had 
not  loved  you  so  I  could  never  have  bidden  you  stay." 

"I  think  that  is  so,"  he  said,  and  bent  over  her  and 
touched  his  lips  to  hers,  and  let  them  rest  there  in  a  long 
contact  of  ecstasy  arid  bliss. 

"What  will  be  best  co  do?"  she  asked  him,  after  a  long 
silence. 

"I  ttish  to  do  what  is  wisest,"  he  answered,  "and  I  do 
not  know  what  that  is.  Let  us  think  it  over.  Meet  me 
here  again  to-morrow,  and  we  will  say  what  we  have 
thought.  Let  us  think  of  ourselves  now." 

That  at  least  was  the  easiest,  if  not  the  wisest,  thing  to 
do,  and  the  afternoon  slipped  away  in  the  blissful  talk  of 
newly  found  lovers.  There  was  so  much  to  say.  They 
knew  so  little  of  each  other.  And  each  revelation  was  a 
delight. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

AT   PENARTH  CASTLE. 

The  Countess  Darlington  was  such  a  woman  as  one 
would  have  expected  the  mother  of  Guy  Darlington  to 
be— stately  and  beautiful.  Dignified  to  the  verge  of 
haughtiness  with  others,  with  Guy  she  had  always  been 
the  tenderest  and  most  indulgent  of  mothers. 

She  had  watched  his  growth  from  boyhood  into  his 
perfect  manhood  with  a  pride  that  knew  no  bounds.  He 
had  been  a  little  wild,  but  never  vicious  ;  had  made  her 
his  confidante  and  companion  as  much  as  a  young  man 
very  well  could  ;  but  in  the  abounding  health  of  both  his 


AT  PENARTH  CAUTLE.  17 

mind  and  body  there  had  never  been  any  confidences  wor- 
thy of  the  name  to  make. 

She  had  told  him  to  go  see  the  world,  and  he  had  gone 
as  a  young  prince  might  have  gone,  scattering  his  gold 
right  and  left,  meeting  everywhere  with  a  welcome  that 
was  most  royal — a  welcome  that  was  accorded  partly  to 
his  wealth,  partly  to  his  title,  and  very  much  to  his  joy- 
ous, manly  nature  and  his  extremely  good  looks. 

Perhaps  he  had  unintentionally  broken  some  hearts — 
his  own  had  never  been  seriously  touched,  though  he  had 
been  the  object  of  many  a  well-calculated  attack  from  the 
combined  forces  of  designing  mamma  and  guileless 
maiden.  All  such  assaults  Lady  Darlington  had  either 
ignored  or  smiled  at  in  her  own  lofty  fashion.  In  her  in- 
fatuation she  believed  the  chief  reason  of  Guy's  insensi- 
bility to  ba  the  failure  on  her  part  to  urge  him  to  the 
selection  of  his  life's  partner.  An  infatuation  uncon- 
sciously fostered  by  him,  who  knowing  nothing  of  love 
but  as  he  had  read,  talked  so  rationally  of  it  with  his 
mother  that  she  could  not  help  but  think  with  him  that 
he  would  marry  as  a  matter  of  course  when  the  time 
came. 

It  was  the  coming  of  that  time  that  was  the  cause  of  all 
the  trouble.  The  time  had  already  come  when  both 
mother  and  son  were  ready.  He  had  met  Violet  Lisle ; 
the  countess  had  chosen  a  mate  for  him  from  among  his 
peers.  It  was  to  bring  the  lady  of  her  choice  and  her  son 
together  that  she  had  urged  the  visit  to  Penarth  Castle, 
where  they  so  seldom  went,  and  where,  under  the  pretext 
of  a  little  shooting,  Guy  could  be  free  to  meet  her  with  a 
very  few  select  friends. 

Lady  Sibyl  Coldenham  had  every  attribute  which  the 
daughter-in-law  of  the  Countess  of  Darlington  should 
have.  She  was  beautiful,  accomplished,  gentle,  of  irre- 
proachable lineage,  rich,  and  willing.  At  least  her  father, 
the  Marquis  of  Coldenham,  said  she  was  willing,  and  the 
patrician  mother  of  Guy  looked  no  further.  She  had 
married  as  her  parents  had  chosen,  she  had  been  as  happy 
as  it  was  necessary  for  one  in  her  position  to  be,  and, 
moreover,  Guy  would  marry  as  she  chose — an  argument 
in  itself. 

The  days  after  that  first  meeting  in  the  abbey  woods 
ha  1  multiplied  into  weeks,  and  still  nothing  had  been  said 
by  either  Violet  or  Guy  to  inform  the  father  of  the  one  or 
the  mother  of  the  other  of  what  had  happened.  Each 
shrank  from  doing  what  might  by  some  chance  interrupt 


18  AT  PEN  A  R  TH  OA  STLS. 

"r  happiness.  They  were  both  secure  jn  the  innocence 
«>f  their  motives,  and  there  was  neither  lack  of  moral 
courage,  nor  of  conviction  that  both  parents  would  ap- 
prove to  deter  them  from  speaking  ;  but  there  was  a  sense 
of  the  uncertainty  of  the  temper  of  Violet's  father,  and  in 
the  happiness  of  the  moment  neither  was  anxious  to  dis- 
turb the  cloudless  sky  of  their  love. 

Had  Violet  said  one  word  to  betoken  uneasiness  Guy 
would  have  hastened  to  tell  his  mother  or  her  father  of 
their  intention  to  link  their  fortunes  ;  but  she  felt  no  un- 
easiness, and  said  nothing,  being  more  than  content  that 
Guy  should  exercise  his  own  better  judgment,  and  reveal 
their  soft  secret  to  the  world  when  and  how  he  chose. 

Always  gay  and  joyous  of  temper,  Guy  in  those  days 
was  so  overflowing  with  happiness  and  good-will  toward 
everybody,  that  all  around  him  were  infected  by  his  spir- 
its, and  the  visit  of  the  noble  party  at  the  castle  was 
voted  by  them  all  to  be  a  supreme  success.  Even  Lady 
Sibyl,  who  had  bowed  meekly  to  the  decree  of  her  father, 
as  to  a  thing  there  was  no  gainsaying,  but  who  secretly 
mourned  another  lover,  yielded  Guy  the  homage  of 
respect  and  liking,  and  found  it  easier  than  she  had  sup- 
posed it  would  be  to  contemplate  a  union  with  him. 

She  was  the  only  young  lady  of  the  party,  and  partly  as 
host,  and  partly  from  liking  for  her,  Guy  paid  her  a  great 
deal  of  attention,  devoting  his  mornings  to  her,  so  that 
no  one  should  think  to  question  the  propriety  of  his  soli- 
tary afternoon  rides.  Perhaps  even  his  manner  had  some- 
thing of  affection  in  it,  for  he  was  in  a  mood  to  love  all 
the  world,  and  it  never  occurred  to  him  that  his  brotherly 
gallantry  could  be  misunderstood. 

Something  seemed  to  tell  him  that  Lady  Sibyl  received 
his  advances  in  the  spirit  that  he  made  them,  and  he  was 
so  full  of  his  dear  love  that  more  than  once  he  had  been 
tempted  to  share  his  happiness  with  the  sweet-tempered 
girl,  who  was  so  much  more  natural  with  him  than  it  ^ 
customary  for  the  British  maiden  of  high  rank  to  b<>. 

And  Lady  Darlington,  looking  on,  saw  with  delight  that, 
again,  and  in  this  important  matter,  her  dear  Guy  was  of 
his  own  accord  ratifying  the  choice  she  had  made  fo  him. 
She  let  the  companionship  continue  without  interruption 
by  word  or  sign,  and  secretly  congratulated  herself  and 
the  marquis  on  the  happy  issue  of  their  plan.  And  the 
marquis,  who  was  a  thorough  man  of  the  world,  and  who 
was  overjoyed  at  this  opportunity  to  dispose  so  brilliantly 


A7  PENARTH  CASTLE.  19 

•Is  daughter,  smil;  <1  r  »i;  placently  at  the  countess,  and 
Jonioally  to  himselt. 

To   him  the   candor   and  frank  manliness  of  Guy  worn 

only  proofs  of  his  callowness   and   inexperience,  and  he 

laughed  in  the  privacy  of  his  dressing-room  as  he  thought 

how  the  young  earl  would  some  day  surprise  his  doting 

her  by  the  way  he  would  scatter  the   rich  revenues  of 

Darlingtons.     How  any  such  development  of  the  vices 

::is   kind   might  affect  his  daughter  he  never  thought, 

for  the  very  simple  reason  that  he  did  not  care.    Love  and 

happiness  "might  do   very  well   for  the  vulgar  herd,  but 

for  those  who   lived   on  the   social   heights  they  did  not 

exist. 

Lady  Darlington  was  in  no  hurry  to  announce  her  ap- 
proval and  delight  to  Guy — for  it  did  rejoice  his  mother's 
heart  that   Guy's  happiness  and  duty  lay  together — but 
one  day  the   time  happened   opportunely  for  it,  and  she 
took  advantage  of  it.     They  were  sitting  before  the   fire 
alone  in  her  boudoir,  and   Guy  had   been   telling  her  of 
some  merry  escapade  with  Lady  Sibyl. 
"I  am  glad  you  like  Lacfy  Sibyl,  Guy." 
"  Like  her  !    Why,  of  course  ;  how  could  I  help  it  ?    She 
is  so  free  from  affectation  and  prudery." 

"She  is  an  accomplished   and   gifted  lady,  and  her  line- 
age is  as  good  as  our  own.  Guy." 

"Yes,    I  believe  so.     Goes 'back  of  the  Conqueror,  I 
think." 

There  was  silence  for  a  few  minutes,  during  which  Guy 
0  himself  up  to  thoughts  of  one  whose  ancestry  was 
quite  as  good  as  his  own  ;  but  whose  virtues  lifted  her  to 
heights  he  could  never  hope  to  attain.  He  was  thinking, 
however,  that  he  would  at  least  strive  to  be  worthy  of  her, 
when  his  mother,  who  had  been  proudly  watching  his 
handsome  face,  said  : 

"I  have  been   thinking,  Guy,  that  it  was   almost  time 
for  you  to  take  a  wife." 

Guy  blushed   through  the    bronze   on   his   cheek,    but 
looked  up  with  a  joyous  air  at  his  stately  mother. 
"I  have  been  thinking  so,  too,"  he  said. 
Lady  Darlington  laughed  at  the  little  touch   of  happy- 
embarrassment   in  his   manner,    and   leaned   forward   to 
>ke   his  cheek  with   the   back   of   her  white,  delicately 
ned   hand.     The   Beresfords,    from   whom   she   came, 
for  their  hands. 

3m#S 


20  MOTHER  AND  80 N. 

"  You  noticed  it,  lady  mother  ?" 

It  was  so  he  always  called  her  when  he  was  especially 
pleased. 

"Did  you  think  I  was  blind,  Guy?" 

"No,  mother,"  he  answered,  with  an  affectionate  earn- 
estness, "not  where  your  Guy  is  concerned.  You  are 
never  blind  then." 

She  flushed  with  the  pleasure  of  his  words,  and  for  a 
moment  fondled  in  silence  the  hand  he  had  put  into  hers. 

"I  think  she  will  be  a  good  and  worthy  wife,  Guy." 

"Too  good  for  my  deserts,  mother,  but  I  love  her  so  that 
I  do  believe  that  I  shall  grow  more  worthy  as  I  know  her. 
Oh,  mother,  I  am  so  glad  you  approve,  though  I  was  sure 
you  would.  I  did  not  mean  to  keep  it  a  secret  so  long. 
Indeed,  it  has  not  been  so  much  a  secret  as  a  silent  enjoy- 
ment of  a  happiness  so  great  that  it  seemed  to  me  I  could 
not  speak  of  it." 

Lady  Darlington  smiled  sympathetically. 

"  I  did  not  know  you  loved  so  deeply  as  this,  Guy,  but  I 
am  glad.  And  does  Lady  Sibyl  reciprocate  this  love?" 

"Lady  Sibyl,  mother  !  Did  you  think  I  spoke  of  Lady 
Sibyl  ?"  cried  Guy,  staring  at  his  mother. 

"Why,  yes,"  answered  Lady  Darlington,  a  startled  ex- 
pression creeping  over  her  face,  "of  whom  else?" 

"Lady  Sibyl!"  exclaimed  Guy,  with  a  short  laugh. 
"Why,  mother,  I  would  never  think  of  marrying  her. 
I  spoke  of  Violet  Lisle." 


CHAPTER  V. 

MOTHER  AND   SON. 

The  words  that  Guy  uttered  to  his  mother  were  simple 
ones  to  him,  and  he  spoke  them  without  either  heat  or  in- 
decision He  had  DO  thought  of  opposition  from  her,  and 
if  he  spoke  decidedly  he  also  spoke  calmly.  But  to  Lady 
Darlington  the  words  were  a  shock,  and  almost  involun- 
tarily the  question  rose  sharply  to  her  lips  : 

"Who  is  Violet  Lisle?" 

Then  a  low  laugh  broke  from  Guy,  and  he  looked 
dreamily  at  the  fire. 

"True,  mother;  I  ought  to  have  known  that  we  were 
playing  at  cross  purposes.  How  could  you  know  who 
Violet  was?  Ah,  mother,  it  is  less  who  she  is  than  what 
she  is." 

He  was  so  serene,  so  certain  of  her  approval,  as  she 


MOTHER  AND  SON.  21 

could  see,  that  it  was  difficult  for  her  to  know  how  to  take 
the  startling  confession  which  had  been  made  to  her. 

"But  who  is  she,  as  well  as  what  is  she?11  she  asked,  in 
a  low  tone. 

He  studied  a  moment,  clasping  his  hands  over  his  knee, 
and  rocking  slightly  as  he  dreamily  pictured  Violet  to 
himself.  How  should  he  describe  her  to  his  mother  so 
that  she  should  gain  some  faint  notion  of  her  perfection  ? 
No,  there  were  no  words  adequate  to  the  task  ;  he  would 
tell  her  who  she  was,  and  then  his  mother  should  go  with 
him  to  the  abbey  woods  and  see  Violet  with  her  own  eyes, 
as  he  had  so  often  seen  her. 

"You  know  the  Lisles  of  Granthorpe?"  he  said  to  his 
mother. 

A  little  sigh  of  relief  broke  from  Lady  Darlington's  lips. 
The  Lisles  of  Granthorpe  had  larger  estates  and  a  bigger 
rent-roll  than  the  Darlingtons  even.  The  estates  joined, 
too.  The  two  families  had  long  been  in  litigation  over  a 
large  and  important  estate,  but  such  a  union  would  heal 
any  divisions,  and  make  the  future  Earl  of  Darlington 
and  of  Granthorpe  one  of  the  most  powerful  in  the  United 
Kingdom.  But 

"  Is  there  a  daughter,  Guy  ?" 

"Oh,  not  of  those  Lisles,"  said  Guy,  carelessly.  "Vio- 
let belongs  to  the  younger  branch.  Very  rich  in  blood," 
he  added,  with  his  sunny  laugh,  "but  poor  in  money. 
Fortunately  that  will  not  matter." 

"Will  not  matter?"  she  repeated,  sharply — almost 
angrily. 

But  he  did  not  notice  the  tone.  He  was  thinking  of 
how  little  value  money  was  in  comparison  with  Violet's 
wealth  of  purity  and  loveliness. 

"No,  it  will  not  matter,  thank  Heaven!  Ah,  Lady 
mother,  you  will  so  love  her  !  I  never  valued  our  wealth 
so  much  as  since  I  have  thought  how  much  happiness  she 
would  derive  from  it.  She  has  been  reared  in  poverty, 
mother — oh,  real  poverty ! — but  she  is  like  the  flowers 
that  come  up  through  th'e  snow — all  the  purer  and  sweeter 
for  it." 

"Poetical !"  said  Lady  Darlington,  with  that  little  sneer 
which  so  often  precedes  the  outburst  of  suppressed  anger. 

Guy  laughed,  unconscious   of  the  storm  about  to  burst. 

"So  it  was,  eh?  Violet's  influence,  mother.  I  am  so 
anxious  for  you  to  meet  now  that  it  is  out.  I  ought  to 
have  let  you  share  my  happiness  before.  I  don't  know 
why  T  didn't." 


jfg  MOTHER  AND  SON. 

"Perhaps  that  was  Violet's  influence,"  sneered  Lady 
Darlington. 

u  Oh,  no.  She  said  I  was  to  do  as  I  thought  best.  The 
truth  is"— he  laughed  happily — "I  haven't  thought  about 
it  at  all.  How  could  I,  with  Violet  to  think  of?" 

"And  how  long  have  you  known  this  paragon?" 

" Eh?"  ejaculated  Guy,  suddenly  turning  on  the  low 
stool  upon  which  he  was  sitting.  "Not  angry  with  me, 
mother  ?  Why,  mother  mine,  I  did  not  mean  to  make  a 
secret  of  it  with  you.  Do  not  feel  hurt  at  that.  I  wish 
now  I  had  told  you,  as  I  first  intended. " 

"  I  wish  you  had,  Guy ;  but  I  hope  it  is  not  too  late 
now." 

"  Too  late  !    Not  if  you  feel  all  right  about  it." 

"  Feel  right  about  it !  Oh,  Guy,  my  honest,  guileless 
Guy,  can't  you  see  why  you  kept  from  me  this  secret? 
why  any  other  man  than  you  would  have  gone  on  to  the 
end,  keeping  the  secret?" 

"Not  so  painfully  guileless,  mother,"  said  Guy,  with  a 
slight  smile;  " but  what  do  you  mean?  I  don't  under1 
stand." 

"  No,  but  you  will  when  I  bring  my  worldly  wisdom  to 
bear  upon  it  and  explain  it  to  you." 

Guy  smiled  again.  The  superiority  of  his  mother's 
worldly  wisdom  over  his  was  one  of  the  things  he  had 
heard  a  great  deal  of,  and  had  always  accepted  as  one  of 
those  harmless  delusions  which  could  not  injure  his 
mother,  nor  him. 

"  Then  let  us  have  the  worldly  wisdom,  mother,"  he  said, 
gayly  enough. 

'Let  us  be  serious,  Guy." 

"Yes,  mother,"  he  answered,  earnestly,  for  he  could  see 
that  she  was  more  moved  that  he  had  supposed. 

"  How  long  have  you  known  this  Violet  Lisle  ?" 

"Not  'this'  Violet  Lisle,  mother,  please,"  he  said,  seri- 
ously. "  I  have  known  her  three  weeks — three  weeks  in 
time  ;  but  we  do  not  reckon  time  by  days— Violet  and  I. 
It  seems  as  if  I  had  always  known  her,  mother.'' 

"And  how  far  has  it  gone?"  asked  Lady  Darlington, 
with  a  compression  of  the  lips. 

"How  far  has  it  gone!"  he  repeated,  looking  at  his 
mother  with  a  puzzled  expression.  "I  do  not  quite  under- 
stand." 

"I  mean,"  said  Lady  Darlington,  letting  her  anger  have 
more  play,  as  his  serenity  continued,  "how  much  have 
you  Committed  yourself  to  this — this  person?" 


MOTHER  AND  SON.  23 

There  could  be  no  mistake  now,  and  Guy  looked  at  his 
mother  with  a  flush  growing  on  his  cheek,  and  the  color 
deepening  in  his  dark  eye. 

"  Why  do  you  speak  so,  mother  ?" 

"  How  else  should  I  speak  when  my  son  comes  to  me 
and  calmly  tells  me  that  he  has  entangled  himself  with 
some  unknown  person  ?" 

Guy  rose  from  his  stool  and   looked  at  his  mother  in  a 
way  that  might  well  be  incomprehensible  to  her,  for  never 
re  had  he  had  toward  her  the  feeling  that  animated 
hi  m  then.     But  he  did  not  lose  the   calm,  even   tone  that 
become  more  pronounced  since  his  discovery  of  his 
mother's  anger. 

"You  are  speaking  of  Violet  Lisle,  mother,"  he  said, 
gravely,  "  but  I  must  forgive  you,  since  you  do  not  know 
her.  Jn  future  I  bee:  you  to  avoid  such  words  as  *  person' 
and  'entangled'  in  speaking  of  her.  Say  what  you  will, 
ask  me  what  you  will  of  her,  but  do  not  for  a  moment  for- 
get that  you  are  speaking  of  my  future  wife." 

Lady  Darlington  looked  up  at  her  tall  son,  and  saw  in 
him  the  man  she  had  never  before  realized.  There  was 
something  startling  in  the  sudden  change  in  him  from  the 
gay,  pliant  son  to  the  grave,  dignified  man ;  but  the 
mother  clung  to  the  belief  which  had  grown  up  with  him, 
that  he  could  not  gainsay  her.  In  all  these  years  she  had 
not  come  to  know  the  man  that  was  hidden  under  the  lov- 
ing son,  and  to  her  this  betrayal  of  dignity  was  but  a  pass- 
ing phase  of  emotion,  and  she  went  on  in  the  path  she  had 
mapped  out,  and  which  was  to  lead  her  whither  bitter  sor- 
row abided. 

"And  you,  Guy,"  she  said,  sternly,  "do  you  forget  that 
it  is  to  your  mother  that  you  are  speaking  ?" 

"  No,  I  do  not  forget  it.  Had  I  forgotten,  my  words 
would  have  been  different."  Then  his  manner  suddenly 
changed,  and  the  old  affectionate  look  darted  into  his 
eyes.  "  Come,  mother,  do  not  let  any  difference  come  be- 4 
tween  us.  Think  cf  all  these  years  since  ever  I  can 
remember,  when  until  now  there  has  not  been  a  word  ex- 
cept of  love  and  kindness  from  each  to  the  other." 

He  knelt  by  her  side,  and  took  her  hand  and  smiled  at 
hor  in  his  own  sunny  way,  and  she  could  not  but  soften 
ami  smile  back  at  him.  But  the  pride  of  ^aste  and  of 
authority,  that  ruled  her,  would  not  let  her  yield  to  him, 
but  rather  she  would  interpret  his  loving  grace  to  mean 
weakness,  and  that  mado  her  firm  to  go  her  way,  when 
for  the  last  time  she  might  have  turned  and  kept  the  sun- 


24  MOTHER  AXD  SON. 

light  of  happiness  shining  on  the  faces  of  both  of  them. 

"No,  Guy,"  she  said,  stroking  his  chestnut  curls,  but  in 
the  voice  was  not  all  sweetness,  but  some  imperiousness, 
u  let  there  come  no  difference  between  us.  There  never 
has,  and  shall  this  girl,  whom  you  have  known  but  three 
weeks,  and  whom  I  know  not  at  all,  be  the  first  to  cause 
it?" 

"  Violet  cause  the  difference !  Oh,  mother,  if  you  but 
knew  her  !  Go  with  me  to  her — see  her  but  once.  How 
can  you  comprehend  her,  not  knowing  her?" 

"Guy,  I  am  older  than  you  ;  I  know  more  of  the  world 
than  you.  It  is  not  necessary  that  I  should  see  her  or 
know  her  to  understand  what  you,  poor  boy,  cannot  un- 
derstand. It  is  not  you  and  your  loving  heart  that  she 
cares  for— it  is  your* wealth  and  your  title." 

"  Mother  !  mother  !"  he  cried,  in  pain  ;  u  do  not  say  such 
a  thing  of  Violet.  Fire  might  freeze  and  ice  burn,  but 
that  could  not  be  true  of  her." 

"It  is  true,  Guy,  and  you  shall  not  marry  her." 

"  Shall  not,  mother  1"  and  he  rose  from  her  side,  a  cold, 
hard  expression  chasing  away  the  softer  one  from  his 
face. 

"  Yes — shall  not !  You  shall  never  link  yourself  to  a 
designing  adventuress !" 

"You  have  said  enough,  mother.  Listen  to  me.  I 
hope  I  shall  not  forget  that  you  are  my  mother.  I  have 
told  you  that  Violet  Lisle  shall  be  my  wife,  and  so  she 
shall !" 

There  was  that  in  the  deepened  tones  of  his  voice,  in 
the  glowing  darkness  of  his  eyes  that  thrilled  and  shot  to 
the  heart  of  the  mother,  and  the  woman  quailed  before 
the  man,  but  she  could  not  believe  that  he  would  not  still 
be  the  puppet  which,  in  his  loyal,  affectionate  yielding  to 
her  she  had  grown  to  believe  him  to  be. 

"She  shall  never  be  your  wife,  Guy!  I  am  your 
mother,  and  I  command  you  to  put  from  you  this  boyish 
infatuation." 

"  Boyish  infatuation !"  he  repeated,  more  sadly  than 
angrily.  "  Mother,  look  at  me,  as  you  never  have  looked 
at  me— not  at  my  height  and  breadth  for  my  manhood, 
although  they  ought  to  be  enough  ;  but  at  my  face.  Is  it 
that  of  a  weak  boy  ?  Can  you  not  comprehend  that  I 
have  loved  you  so  well  that  since  I  have  grown  to  man's 
estate  I  have  done  from  pure  affection  what  in  my  boy- 
hood I  did  from  duty?  And  now  I  come  to  you,  saying  I 
love  a  woman  so  good  and  so  pure,  so  uplifted  beyond 


GUY'S  PLAN.  25 

anything  I  ever  dreamed  of,  that  she  is  a  thousand  times 
too  good  for  me  ;  and  you  will  not  even  see  her.  Is  this 
the  love  of  a  parent,  wishing  the  best  for  the  son  who  has 
never  before  conscientiously  caused  her  a  pang !  Will 
you  not  see  Violet,  mother  ?" 

"I  will  not,  and  I  forbid  your  doing  so." 

He  turned  away  sorrowfully. 

;t  Well,  mother.  I  will  not  multiply  words  with  you. 
I  shall  marry  Violet,  and  I  hope  that  you  will  receive  her 
as  your  daughter." 

"  Never,  Guy  !  never  !  And  let  me  say  to  you  here  and 
now,"  and  she  rose  passionately  from  her  chair,  "that  if 
you  marry  that  woman  I  shall  disinherit  you,  and  you 
know  what  that  means." 

A  faint,  sad  smile  passed  over  his  lips,  and  without  a 
word  he  left  the  room,  that  so  few  minutes  before  had 
been  echoing  with  his  infectious  mirth.  And  even  then 
the  imperious  mother  could  not  comprehend  her  more 
haughty  son. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

GUY'S  PLAN. 

Guy  knew  his  mother  better  than  she  knew  him,  and 
that  knowledge  told  him  that  she  would  never  yield  her 
position  as  long  as  there  was  any  hope  that  he  would 
yield  his.  And  he  felt  that  she  misjudged  him  so  much 
that  she  would  not  be  convinced  that  he  was  in  earnest 
until  he  had  put  it  out  of  the  reach  of  doubt. 

But  how  was  that  to  be  accomplished  ?  He  had  already 
told  his  mother,  as  emphaticalty  as  he  knew  how,  that  he 
would  marry  Violet  in  spite  of  her  opposition,  in  spite  of 
her  threat  to  disinherit  him,  and  still  he  knew  that  she 
believed  he  would  finally  yield. 

The  threat  of  disinheritance  brought  a  faint  smile  to  his 
face  as  he  recalled  it.  It  was  his  mother's  last  card,  and 
the  manner  in  which  she  had  played  it  was  evidence  that 
she  considered  it  a  strong  one.  How  strange  it  seemed  to 
him  that  his  mother  could  think  for  a  moment  that  money 
could  have  any  weight  in  the  balance  against  the  love  of 
such  a  one  as  Violet. 

Lady  Darlington's  fortune  was  an  immense  one,  and 
was  all  that  made  the  earldom  of  value,  for  the  income 
from  the  estate  which  went  with  the  title  was  not  much 
over  five  thousand  pounds  a  year,  a  sum  quite  inadequate 


96  GUTS  PLAN. 

to  the  proper  maintenance  of  the  dignity  of  the  earldom. 
But  if  the  income  had  been  one  half  of  what  it  was,  and 
the  fortune  of  Lady  Darlington  twice  what  it  was,  Guy 
would  still  have  clung  to  the  love  of  Violet  as  incompar- 
ably the  most  precious  thing  to  him. 

The  truth  was  he  told  himself  that  Lady  Darlington  did 
not  know  Violet.  He  was  as  serenely  certain  that  Lady 
Darlington  would  love  Violet  when  she  knew  her  as  he 
was  that  he  loved  Violet.  But  how  should  he  bring  it 
about  that  his  mother  should  know  her? 

It  never  entered  his  head  to  give  up  Violet — not  for  an 
instant,  and  although  he  did  not  argue  the  matter  with 
himself  there  was  a  feeling  down  in  his  heart  that  he 
would  give  up  everything  else  in  the  world  first. 

He  knew  it  would  be  an  uncomfortable  day  at  the  cas- 
tle, so  he  made  some  matter  of  business  at  Houghton  his 
excuse,  and  rode  away  there,  timing  his  return  so  that  he 
would  be  just  in  time  for  his  tryst  with  Violet. 

The  ride  in  the  crisp  air  exhilarated  him,  and  there  was 
not  even  a  trace  of  the  unpleasant  effects  of  the  morning's 
interview  in  his  manner  when  he  rode  up  to  where  Violet 
sat  sketching.  She  dropped  her  pencil  at  the  first  sound 
of  the  horse's  hoofs,  and  sprang  to  her  feet  with  a  glad 
smile  of  welcome. 

"Dick  looks  tired,"  she  said,  stroking  the  arched  neck 
of  the  intelligent  animal.  "  Have  you  been  for  a  gallop  ?" 

"I  come  from  Houghton.  How  well  he  knows  his 
future  mistress !"  and  he  leaped  from  the  saddle,  and  bent 
over  to  kiss  the  blushing  face  turned  up  to  him,  and  so 
they  stood  together  for  a  minute,  his  arm  around  her 
waist,  her  head  on  his  breast,  and  Dick  tossing  his  head 
and  champing  his  bit. 

Then  Guy  threw  the  bridle  over  a  convenient  branch, 
and  led  Violet  to  their  favorite  seat  under  the  oak  where 
she  had  first  known  her  own  and  his  love.  Guy  let  her 
sit  while  he  stood  before  her,  gazing  with  enthusiastic 
admiration  on  her  beautiful  face. 

"Could  anything  make  you  give  me  up,  Violet?"  he 
asked,  suddenly. 

She  looked  up  with  a  startled  air. 

"Give  you  up,  Guy?    I  do  not  understand." 

"Do  not  look  so  frightened,  love,"  he  said,  sinking  be- 
fore her  to  one  knee,  that  they  might  be  nearer.  "I 
would  not  give  you  up — no,  not  for  anything  this  world 
had  to  offer ;  but  I  have  been  wondering  what  you  would 


QUY'S  PLAN.  27 

do  if  your  father  should  say  that  you  must  not  marry  me. 
What  would  you  do  in  such  a  case  ?" 

Sho  looked  serious  for  a  moment,  and  then,  with  a  smile 
of  confidence  almost  divine — to  him  it  was  divine— she 
said  : 

"  I  had  never  thought  of  it,  Guy,  but  I  know  what  I 
should  do— I  should  tell  you  and  ask  you  to  decide  for 

"And  you  believe  that  I  am  wise  enough,  and  true 
enough,  and  brave  enough  to  decide  for  you  as  will  be 
best  for  you— leaving  myself  out  of  the  question?" 

She  put  her  hand  in  his  hand  and  looked  with  angelic 
trustfulness  into  his  eyes. 

"I  believe  you  are  all  these  things,  Guy.  1^  know  that 
you  would  do  as  I  would  do — sacrifice  yourself  to  my 
happiness." 

"Yes,  Violet,"  he  answered,   his  voice  shaking   with 

tion,  "I  do  believe  that  I  value  your  happiness  so 

much  above  my  own  that  I  could  decide  unselfishly.    And 

yet  I   love  you  so — I  do  not  know Pray  Heaven,  I 

shall  decide  as  is  best  for  you." 

There  was  an  earnestness  in  his  manner  that  troubled 
her  now,  and  she  asked,  with  a  tremor  in  her  voice  : 

"  Has  anything  happened,  Guy  ?" 

"Yes,  my  dear  love,  the  most  unexpected  thing  has 
happened.  At  first  I  thought  I  would  not  speak  of  it  to 
you,  and  then  I  felt  that  it  would  be  wrong  to  conceal 
from  you  even  what  might  make  you  unhappy.  Was  I 
right?" 

"  Assuredly,  my  Guy.  It  seems  to  me  that  you  could 
not  do  wrong.  What  has  happened  ?  You  do  not  seem 
much  troubled." 

"  No,  and  I  am  not ;  but  I  fear  that  you  will  see  more  of 
importance  in  it  than  there  truly  is." 

"Tell  me,"  and  she  smiled  as  one  who  is  not  afraid. 

"My  mother  forbids  me  to  marry  you." 

"  Forbids  you !  Oh,  Guy !"  and  her  face  suddenly 
blanched 

"  Yes,  she  forbids  me  ;  but  why  do  you  look  so  fright- 
ened, my  darling?  You  did  not  seem  so  greatly  troubled 
at  the  thought  oi  your  father's  displeasure." 

She  paused  a  moment,  as  if  doubtful  of  her  own 
thought,  then  said : 

kt  was  different.     I  know  my  father,  and  I  am  sure 

say  no  r  Cor- 

:«    Po  you 


28  GUY'S  PLAN. 

what.  I  mean  ?  He  is  so  consumed  by  his  pride  of  blood 
that  while  he  would  forgive  nothing  to  my  love  for  you 
he  would  forgive  anything  to  your  title.  Is  it  wrong  for 
me  to  speak  so  of  my  father  ?" 

"I  think  not,  Violet.  And  what  you  say  of  your  father 
I  can  say  with  a  difference  of  my  mother.  She  does  not 
know  you,  and  she  will  not  know  you.  I  know  her  that 
well.  As  long  as  you  are  Violet  Lisle  she  will  refuse  to 
see  you  ;  but  when  she  knows  that  you  are  my  wife,  and 
that  she  is  powerless  to  have  it  otherwise  she  will  yield 
and  take  you  to  her  heart." 

"  Are  you  sure,  Guy  ?" 

"As  sure  as  that  I  live." 

"  Why  should  she  forbid  you  to  marry  me  ?" 

"  Her  heart  is  set  on  another  alliance  for  me — one  that 
will  unite  my  own  coronet  with  another." 

"  Perhaps  she  will  never  forgive  me  for  standing  be- 
tween her  and  her  will." 

"When  she  knows  you  she  will  love  you." 

"  And  how  will  you  bring  us  together,  since  she  refuses 
to  see  me  ?" 

"  She  refuses  to  see  Violet  Lisle.  She  will  not  refuse  to 
see  Lady  Darlington." 

Guy  spoke  in  a  low  tone,  and  took  both  of  Violet's 
hands  in  his  as  he  said  this.  For  a  moment  she  did  not 
comprehend  ;  then  a  deep  flush  suffused  her  face  and  she 
rather  gasped  than  said  : 

"  Oh,  Guy !" 

"  Does  it  startle  you,  darling  ?" 

"  Oh,  Guy,  Guy  !  it  seems  to  me  that  I  could  never  do 
that." 

"  Does  it  shock  you  so  much  ?  It  is  the  only  thing  I  can 
think  of.  We  cannot  go  to  your  father  and  say  that  we 
wish  his  consent,  but  that  my  mother  refuses  hers.  5Tou 
know  he  would  then  forbid  you  to  have  anything  more  to 
do  with  me.  My  mother  will  not  yield.  What  shall  we 
do  then  ?  I  will  not  ask  you  to  consent  to  a  runaway  mar- 
riage if  it  makes  you  feel  so  badly  ;  but  I  despair  of  any 
other  plan." 

"It  seems  so  unmaidenly  a  thing  to  do,"  she  said, 
tremulously. 

"  Yes,  if  it  could  be  accomplished  in  any  other  way,  but 
I  will  not  urge  you,  darling.  It  shall  all  be  as  you  will." 

"How  good  !  how  unselfish  you  are,  my  Guy.  Perhaps 
I  am  wrong  to  feel  as  I  do.  Tell  me  how  you  have 
planned  it,  and  I  will  try  to  accustom  myself  to  the  idea, " 


LADY  DARLINGTON'S  PLAN.  29 

"  You  shall  not  force  yourself  tc  agree  with  me,  my 
dear  one.1' 

She  smiled  lovingly  at  him. 

"Already  it  seems  less  to  me,"  she  said,  bravely.  "A 
new  thought  is  always  startling.  Tell  me  how  you  had 
planned  it,  for  I  know  you  have  planned  it  all  out. " 

CHAPTER  VII. 
LADY  DARLINGTON'S  PLAN. 

The  shock  to  Lady  Darlington  of  Guy's  determined 
stand  against  her  authority  was  so  great  that  although 
she  would  not  permit  herself  to  believe  that  he  would  or 
could  hold  out,  she  could  not  for  some  time  recover  suffi- 
ciently to  think  of  the  matter  calmly. 

She  saw  Guy  ride  out  of  the  court-yard  on  Dick,  and 
knew  that  he  was  going  to  see  Violet  Lisle.  His  message 
that  he  was  going  to  Houghton  did  not  deceive  her,  but  it 
did  rouse  her  to  action.  It  was  quite  evident  that  the  girl 
had  a  strong  influence  over  Guy,  and  for  the  first  time  a 
feeling  of  alarm  mingled  with  her  other  emotions.  Sup- 
pose the  girl  should  persuade  him  to  marry  her  ! 

The  thought  was  a  poignant  one  to  the  hauerhty  aris- 
tocrat, who  could  see  in  Violet  only  a  designing  girl, 
alliance  with  whom  could  Only  be  degradation  for  the 
Earl  of  Darlington.  She  was  not  a  hard  woman  in  the 
ordinary  affairs  of  life.  She  was  haughty  and  proud,  but 
kindly  and  considerate  with  her  inferiors  and  always 
ready  and  glad  to  do  a  deed  of  kindness. 

Now,  however,  she  felt  toward  the  unknown  girl  who 
had  come  between  her  and  her  son,  a  bitterness  and  anger 
that  would  have  enabled  her  to  crush  her  remorselessly  to 
the  dust  under  her  feet.  But  what  should  she  do?  It 
was  a  question  she  felt  powerless  to  answer,  and  after  an 
hour  or  more  of  futile  struggle  with  the  vexing  problem 
she  suddenly  rang  the  bell. 

"If  Lord  Coldenham  is  in  the  castle,"  she  said  to  her 
maid,  "ask  him  if  he  will  be  good  enough  to  come  to  my 
drawing-room. " 

The  Marquis  of  Coldenham  was  a  good  type  of  the 
English  nobleman.  He  had  a  fine  presence,  a  faultless 
manner,  a  face  as  calm  and  emotionless  as  that  of  a  mar- 
ble statue,  and  he  was  dressed  in  perfect  accordance  with 
the  prevailing  fashion.  He  was  curious  to  know  why  he 
had  been  sent  for  by  Lady  Darlington,  but  that  and  every 


30  LADY  JlAKLlNGTON'ti 

other  feeling  was  carefully  hidden  under  an  elaborate 
courtesy  of  manner. 

"  I  wish  to  consult  with  you,  Lord  Coldenham,"  said 
Lady  Darlington,  with  an  absence  of  conventionality  that 
proved  to  him  at  once  how  much  disturbed  she  was. 

"It  is  an  honor,  Lady  Darlington,"  he  answered,  with  a 
low  bow. 

"I  have  taken  the  liberty,"  she  went  on,  "as  much  be- 
cause you  are  an  old  and  tried  friend  as  because  you  are 
the  father  of  the  girl  I  would  have  my  son  marry." 

Lord  Coldenham  was  on  the  instant  full  of  anxious  at- 
tention. This  was  a  matter  that  touched  him  more 
closely  than  even  her  ladyship  imagined,  but  his  manner 
never  lost  its  indifferent  courtesy. 

"Whatever  service  I  can  be  to  you,  Lady  Darlington," 
he  said,  "will  be  an  obligation  laid  upon  me." 

"You  are  kind  to  say  so.  I  spoke  to  Guy  to-day  of 
Sibyl." 

"Yes?"  and  the  tone  was  perfectly  even  and  uncon- 
cerned ;  but  there  was  a  sudden  light  in  the  eye  of  the 
noble  marquis  that  told  of  an  interest  he  would  not  be- 
tray. 

"Yes,  and  he  told  me  that  he  was  entangled  with  some 
adventuress." 

"  Not  already  married  !"  exclaimed  the  marquis,  with 
rather  more  quickness  than  comported  with  his  justly 
celebrated  repose  of  manner. 

"  No,  oh,  no ;  but  determined  to  marry  her.  It  is  the 
first  time  he  has  ever  refused  to  listen  to  me,  and  it  shows 
that  the  woman  has  gained  a  strong  power  over  him." 

The  marquis  smiled.  He  had  a  supreme  contempt  for 
Gkiy,  whose  character  was  quite  incomprehensible  to  him. 

"If  he  is  not  already  married,  and  you  know  tho 
woman,  there  can  be  no  reason  for  distress,"  he  said. 

"Do  you, think  so?"  said  Lady  Darlington,  with  a  sigh 
of  relief,  for  the  worldly  wisdom  of  the  marquis  was  a 
thing  that  even  she  might  bow  to.  "  I  know  the  woman — 
at  least  I  know  who  she  is.  Her  name  is  Violet  Lisle,J 
and  she  lives  in  the  village  with  her  father,  who  belongs 
to  a  younger  branch  of  the  Lisles  of  Granthorpe.  ' 

"Poor?" 

"  Wretchedly  poor,  I  judge  from  what  Guy  said .  He 
could  not  see  it,  but  it  was  immediately  evident  to  ftiQ 
that  it' was  his  money  and  title  that  attracted  her." 

"Does  the  father  know?" 


IADY  DARLINGTON'S  PLAN. 

"I  suppose  so.  I  have  no  doubt  he  is  fostering  the  in- 
fatuation of  my  poor  Guy." 

"  And  you  wish  my  advice  ?" 

"  If  you  will  be  good  enough  to  give  it  to  me.  I  should 
have  asked  it  even  had  not  the  marriage  of  our  children 
been  involved." 

u  It  appears  to  me  quite  simple,  Lady  Darlington.  I 
agree  with  you  that  it  is  Guy's  money  these  people  care 
for  more  than  anything  else.  It  seems  to  me  the  best 
plan  would  be  to  go  to  the  father  and  ask  him  frankly  how 
much  he  will  take  to  call  his  daughter  off." 

"I,  had  thought  of  that,  but  if  I  let  him  think  he  has 
any  power  he  may  endeavor  to  extort  almost  any  sum  of 
money." 

"  Not  if  you  first  tell  him  that  Guy  is  dependent  on  you 
for  his  income." 

"  That  is  true.    And  you  think  I  ought  to  go  in  person  ?" 

"  It  would  be  the  most  effectual  plan.  Of  course  I  am 
perfectly  willing  to  go  to  him  for  you  ;  but  you  see  he  is  a 
tenant  of  yours,  and,  no  doubt,  a  shabby  genteel  fellow 
who  will  be  more  overawed  by  you  than  by  any  emissary 
you  could  send.  You  might  indeed  send  for  him  to  come 
to  you  ;  but  I  should  incline  to  the  idea  that  it  would  be 
better  for  you  to  go  to  him  as  you  would  to  any  of  your 
tenants,  and  assume  with  him  that  tone  which  you  would 
naturally  assume  with  an  inferior  who  had  presumed  to 
do  so  outrageous  a  thing." 

This  advice  fell  in  so  well  with  Lady  Darlington's  own 
feelings  that  she  accepted  it  without  a  moment  of  hesita- 
tion. 

"  You  are  right.  I  will  go  to  this  man  this  afternoon, 
for  I  shall  be  uneasy  until  I  have  freed  Guy  from  this 
entanglement.  You  can  imagine,  Lord  Coldenham,  what 
a  hold  it  has  taken  upon  him,  when  I  tell  you  that  in'the 
face  of  my  direct  command  to  him  to  relinquish  her  l;o 
told  me  that  nothing  should  prevent  his  marriage  to  her." 

"Is  she  beautiful?"  asked  the  marquis. 

"Guy  speaks  of  her  as  if  she  were  something  worrier- 
ful ;  but  the  poor  boy  is  so  infatuated  thrt  it  would  rot 
surprise  me  to  find  her  something  the  very  reverse  of 
beautiful.  But  it  shall  be  ended  at  once,  and  then  he  and 
Sibyl  must  be  married  at  as  early  a  day  as  possible.  Do 
you  not  agree  with  me  ?" 

"Entirely,"  answered  the  marquis. 

The  conference  ended  with  some  further  desultory  talk, 
and  that  afternoon  Lady  Darlington  ordered  her  carriage, 


32  TWO  ARISTOCRATS. 

and  was  driven  over  to  the  ^illage,  feeling  quite  at  eas<» 
with  herself,  and  with  no  premonition  of  the  reception  she 
would  receive  from  Melville  Lisle,  a  man  whose  life  of 
poverty  had  only  accentuated  his  pride,  so  that  it  stood 
out  the  one  feature  of  his  otherwise  monotonous  existence. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

TWO   ARISTOCRATS. 

Looking  at  Melville  Lisle  it  was  easy  to  see  where  Vio- 
let got  her  beauty  ;  but  the  same  glance  would  also  betray 
the  fact  that  it  was  not  from  her  father  that  she  received 
her  sweet  and  wholesome  nature  ;  for  on  his  face  was  set- 
tled the  expression  of  an  an^ry,  discontented  pride,  draw- 
ing down  the  corners  of  a  well-cut  mouth  and  lengthening 
the  curve  of  the  nostrils. 

Too  proud  to  do  anything  to  lighten  his  poverty,  he  yet 
had  a  brain  too  active  to  be  content  with  sloth,  and  so  he 
had  long  since  turned  his  thoughts  to  literature  as  a  field 
in  which  he  might  without  disgrace  exercise  his  faculties. 
Nothing  so  frivolous  as  a  tale  of  love  ever  came  from  his 
pen,  however.  '  It  was  a  thing  he  could  not  understand, 
nor  could  he  tolerate  it  as  a  factor  in  a  properly  regulated 
life.  His  great  work  was  a  disquisition  on  the  correlation 
and  conservation  of  forces — a  work  that  would  have 
doubtless  created  a  revolution  in  the  thought  of  the  world 
if  it  had  ever  found  a  publisher,  which,  for  some  reason, 
it  never  did  find. 

The  cottage  was  a  small  one,  but  if  it  had  been  half  the 
size  it  would  have  found  one  room  for  his  library,  if  Vio- 
let and  Goody  White  had  slept  on  the  roof.  Melville 
Lisle's  books  were  for  the  most  part  a  portion  of  the  over- 
flow from  the  library  of  Granthorpe,  which  had  been  given 
to  his  father  by  the  then  earl,  and  which  typified  to  Mel- 
ville Lisle  the  aristocratic  pretensions  to  which  he  clung 
as  to  the  most  precious  thing  of  his  life. 

He  was  sitting  in  his  library,  adding  a  thought  or  two 
to  a  new  work  on  "  diaphragmatic  propulsion  of  impalpa- 
ble particles,"  when  Goody  White,  in  a  tremor  of  intense 
excitement,  burst  into  the  sacred  room  without  the  cus- 
tomary knock  of  respectful  deprecation. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Lisle  !"  she  gasped,  "Mr.  Lisle  !" 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this  intrusion ?"  demanded 
Mr.  Lisle,  with  a  coldness  that  should  have  had  its  effect 
on  Goody,  as  it  usually  did,  but  in  this  case  did  not. 


TWO  ARISTOCRATS.  33 

41  Lady  Darlington,  sir,"  whispered  Goody,  shaking  her 
two  hands  at  him  in  a  most  impressive  manner. 

"  What  about  Lady  Darlington  ?"  demanded  Mr.  Lisle, 
haughtily. 

"  In  the  parlor,  sir,  she  is,  with  her  own  carriage  waitin' 
outside.  An'  she  asked  for  you,  sir.  I  was  that  dum- 
founded,  sir,  when  I  see  who  it  were  to  be  sure " 

"That  will  do,"  said  Mr.  Lisle,  with  dignity.  "Tell 
Lady  Darlington  that  I  will  be  with  her  presently." 

And  Goody  White  went  from  him,  marveling  at  the 
composure  with  which  he  could  receive  so  startling  an 
event,  and  beginning  to  comprehend  that  her  master  was 
really  one  of  the  great  ones  of  the  earth.  Else,  as  she 
said,  "he  would  'a  been  more  flustered  like." 

it  would  not  be  true  to  say  that  Melville  Lisle  was  un- 
moved by  the  announcement  that  Lady  Darlington  had 
come  to  visit  him  at  his  humble  cottage — "hovel"  he 
called  it — but  he  had  cultivated  an  aristocratic  repose  of 
manner  too  long  to  be  betrayed  into  any  expression  of 
feeling  even  when  brought  into  unexpected  contact  with 
such  a  piece  of  intelligence. 

He  changed  his  (Dilapidated  smoking- jacket  for  his  coat, 
and  put  himself  into  as  good  trim  as  lay  in  his  power  with 
the  wretched  means  at  his  command,  and  then,  with  the 
air  of  an  aristocrat  to  the  manner  born,  descended  the 
stairs  to  the  little  parlor,  which  was  pretty  and  sweet 
with  the  little  refinements  bestowed  upon  it  by  Violet,  but 
which  to  him  looked  especially  mean  and  poverty-stricken 
now,  as  he  entered  it  and  made  a  quick  contrast  between 
it  and  the  richly  clad  peeress  who  sat  there  waiting  for 
him. 

But  if  he  felt  the  poorness  of  the  little  room  he  did  not 
betray  the  feeling ;  but  rather  the  more  he  felt  it  the 
higher  mounted  his  pride,  and  he  bore  himself  with  pre- 
cisely such  an  air  as  the  Earl  of  Granthorpe  would  have 
done  in  his  great  drawing-room  at  the  castle,  insomuch 
that  Lady  Darlington  was  fain  to  rise  to  leturn  his 
courtly  salutation,  whereas  she  had  intended  to  put  him 
in  his  place  at  once  by  remaining  seated. 

"Lady  Darlington  does  me  a  great  honor,*'  said  Melville 
Lisle,  but  said  it  with  a  grand  air  of  rather  conferring 
than  receiving  an  honor. 

"This  is  Mr.  Melville  Lisle?"  inquired  Lady  Darlington, 
endeavoring  in  vain  to  throw  into  her  manner  an  air  <>f 
patronage.  The  stately,  haughty  courtesy  of  her  tenant 
compelled  her  to  a  like  courtesy. 


34  TWO  ARISTOCRATS. 


it- 


'It  is.    Pray  be  seated,"  and  he  waved  her  to  a  chair. 

Much  as  he  hated  the  shabby  little  parlor  he  would  not 
have  uttered  a  word  o'f  apology  for  it,  acting  with  Lady 
Darlington  as  he  had  always  acted  with  others,  on  the  as- 
Humption  that  Melville  Lisle  had  nothing  to  apologize  for. 
He  wished  her  to  understand  that  that  wretched  room, 
with  a  descendant  of  the  Lisles  in  it,  wTas  all  that  could  be 
demanded  by  the  most  fastidious. 

Lady  Darlington  felt  all  this,  and  it  angered  her  that 
instead  of  being  borne  down  by  her  presence  he  dared  to 
hold  himself  to  all  appearances  even  higher  than  herself. 
It  put  her  in  not  the  best  mood  for  the  conference,  and 
made  her  perhaps  more  icy  than  she  otherwise  would 
have  been.  She  felt,  in  fact,  that  the  man  before  her 
knew  her  errand,  and  assumed  his  manner  to  force  her  to 
better  terms.  It  was  on  this  assumption  that  she  began  : 

"  I  presume  you  know  why  I  am  here,  Mr.  Lisle  ?"  she 
said,  haughtily. 

"Indeed,  Lady  Darlington,  I  am  utterly  at  a  loss  to 
know." 

His  answer  was  as  haughty  as  her  own,  and  tinged  with 
an  exasperating  indifference  that  stung  her  to  say  : 

"  At  least  you  will  understand  that  it  is  not  a  visit  of 
pleasure." 

It  was  by  this  time  quite  plain  that  Lady  Darlington 
had  not  come  in  any  amicable  spirit,  and  Melville  Lisle 
was  always  only  too  ready  to  accept  a  slight  to  let  this  go 
unnoticed,  and  yet  his  overweening  sense  of  what  was 
due  to  himself  was  too  great  to  permit  him  to  commit  an 
overt  act  of  discourtesy  to  a  lady.  He  could  not,  how- 
ever, let  this  pass.  He  bowed  politely. 

"It  becomes  a  gentleman  to  agree  with  a  lady,"  he  said, 
ironically.  "  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  this  is  not  a  visit 
of  pleasure." 

Lady  Darlington  bit  her  lip. 

"You  have  a  daughter,  Violet  Lisle,"  she  said,  abruptly. 

He  merely  bo\ved. 

"It  is  of  her  that  I  came  here  to  speak,"  said  Lady  Dar- 
lington, determined  now  to  plunge  at  once  into  the  sub- 
ject. 

Again  Melville  Lisle  only  bowed.  Lady  Darlington 
was  exasperated. 

"I  presume  you  know,"  she  said,  "of  her  relations  to 
my  son." 

Melville  Lisle  rose  from  his  chair,  his  face  white  with 
ang- 


ARISTOCRATS.  35 

"Lady  Darlington,  you  are   speaking  of  my  daughter/1 

It  was  his  proprietary  interest  in  his  daughter  that  was 
touched— not  his  daughter,  but  his  dignity;  but  Lady 
Darlington  could  not  appreciate  the  distinction.  She  only 
remembered  with  angry  suddenness  that  she  had  been  re- 
buked by  her  son  more  than  once  during  her  interview 
with  him  for  speaking  lightly  of  the  same  Violet  Lisle.  It 
was  that  that  made  her  say  : 

"  I  am  speaking  of  the  girl  who  has  entangled  my  son 
into  a  promise  of  marriage." 

For  a  moment  the  fury  of  the  man  was  almost  beyond 
control ;  then  he  drew  himself  up  proudly,  and  said,  with 
a  disdainful  quietude  : 

"It  would  have  been  well,  Lady  Darlington,  to  have  as- 
sured yourself  of  the  identity  of  the  person  of  whom  you 
speak/  My  daughter  does  not  know  your  son.  I  trust 
you  will  pardon  me  if  I  wish  you  a  very  good-day." 

He  bowed  with  ceremonious  slowness,  and  would  have 
left  the  room,  but  Lady  Darlington,  staggered  by  his  quiet 
assurance  that  she  had  made  a  mistake,  hastened  to  say  : 

"  One  moment,  sir.  If  I  have  made  a  mistake  I  shall  be 
over  glad  to  offer  you  an  apology." 

"An  apology  is  quite  unnecessary,  Lady  Darlington, 
whether  you  have  made  a  mistake  or  not.  It  will  be  a 
waste  of  words  to  pursue  this  matter.  Your  son  has  not 
the  honor  of  my  daughter's  acquaintance." 

Again  he  bowed,  and  would  have  withdrawn,  but  Lady 
Darlington  would  not  have  it. 

" 1  beg  your  pardon,  but  are  you  not  of  the  younger 
branch  of  the  Lisles  of  Granthorpe?" 

"lam." 

No  Spanish  hidalgo  ever  showed  a  haughtier  pride  in 
his  ancestry. 

"And  is  not  your  daughter  named  Violet?" 

"She  is." 

"Then,  sir,  whether  you  know  it  or  not,  there  is  an  en- 
gagement between  your  daughter  and  my  son — a  marriage 
engagement." 

Mr.  Lisle  smiled  with  a  sort  of  weary  disdain. 

"  Upon  whose  authority  do  you  say  such  a  thing,  Lady 
Darlington  ?" 

"My  son  told  me  of  it  this  morning." 

"  And  is  your  son  in  his  right  mind  ?" 

"I  never  doubted  it  until  this  morning,"  was  the  quick 
retort.  "I  told  him  at  once  that  such  a  misalliance  was 


3fi  TWO  ARISTOCRATS. 

not  to  be  contemplated  for  a  moment,  and   he  answered 
me  by  saying  that  he  would  marry  Violet  Lisle." 

Melville  Lisle  hardly  changed   color,  but  he  answered 
with  cutting  deliberation  : 

uYour  son's  dementia  has  assumed  a  singular  form 
but  you  need  not  be  alarmed  for  my  daughter.  If  he 
should  .present  himself  to  me  to  ask  for  the  hand  of  my 
daughter— for  I  presume  the  loss  of  his  reason  has  not 
blunted  his  consciousness  of  his  duty  as  a  gentleman I 


"THE  DARLING-TONS  TRACE  THEMSELVES  ONLY  TO  ONE  HUGH 

DARLING. " 

should  tell  him,  as  you  have  done,  that  such  a  misalliance 
is  not  to  be  contemplated." 

I  am  glad  you  can  see  it  in  that  light,  Mr.  Lisle  " 

b  would  indeed  be  strange  if  I  could  not.  Do  you 
think  I  can  forget,  Lady  Darlington,  that  the  Lisles  were 
trusted  counselors  of  the  Norman  William  while  the  Dar- 


TWO  ARISTOCRATS.  37 

lingtons  trace  themselves  only  to  one  Hugh  Darling,  who, 
in  the  seventh  Henry's  time,  rose  by  dishonorable  prac- 
tices from  the  bake-shop  to  the  peerage,  to  the  scandal  of 
the  gentry  of  that  day  T 

Lady  Darlington  turned  scarlet.  She  could  not  deny 
the  truth  of  what  was  said  to  her,  but  it  seemed  the  very 
madness  of  pride  in  the  man  that  gave  him  the  audacity 
to  say  such  a  thing.  She  rose  from  her  chair  with  a 
stately  ignoring  of  what  he  had  suid. 

''  Then  I  may  count  on  you  to  aid  my  efforts  to  prevent 
this  unfortunate  affair  going  any  further  ?" 

"You  have  my  assurance,  in  the  first  place,  that  the 
affair  has  no  existence  outside  of  the  disordered  brain  of 
your  unhappy  son,  and  in  the  next  place  that  I  would 
never  permit  my  daughter  to  contract  so  damaging  a  mis- 
alliance. I  would  be  chary  of  offering  any  advice  in  the 
matter,  Lady  Darlington,  but  since  you  have  done  me  the 
honor  to  consult  me  I  would  suggest  Sir  William  Doyle, 
of  London,  as  an  expert  in  nervous  disorders.  You  have 
my  utmost  sympathy  for  the  unfortunate  young  man.  I 
trust  he  will  evenutally  recover  his  mental  balance. 
Good-day,  Lady  Darlington." 

Lady  Darlington  had  had  the  worst  of  the  encounter, 
and  was  going  away  with  a  singular  hatred  of  the  inno- 
cent cause  of  it.  Even  the  stinging  sarcasm  and  fanatical 
pride  of  the  father  she  could  forgive,  because  she  could 
understand  it,  but  the  power  of  an  unknown  girl  to  cause 
her  to  be  the  participant  in  two  such  interviews  in  the 
same  day  she  could  not  forgive.  It  was  therefore  more 
with  a  threat  against  her  than  against  Melville  Lisle  that 
she  turned  at  the  door  of  the  cottage,  and  said  to  the 
latter : 

"  Perhaps  it  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  say  if  by  any  un- 
foreseen contretemps  my  son  should  marry  without  my 
consent  I  would  disinherit  him.  His  title,  with  the  small 
income  that  goes  with  it,  would  be  of  little  value  to  a 
woman  marrying  him  for  wealth  and  position." 

"It  is  extremely  gratifying  to  be  taken  into  your  con- 
fidence about  your  family  affairs,  Lady  Darlington,  and  if 
your  poor  child  should  come  to  me  I  will  not  fail  to  repeat 
what  you  say.  Soothing  measures,  however — ah,  I  wish 
you  good -day,"  and  he  bowed  courteously  as  she  stepped 
into  her  carriage  and  was  driven  off. 

He  closed  the  door  gently  enough,  but  when  that  was 
done  all  the  pent-up  fury  burst  forth  in  an  angry  sum- 


38  TWO  ARISTOCRATS. 

mons  to  Violet.  Violet,  however,  was  not  at  home,  and 
Goody  White,  looking  very  fearful,  appeared  in  her  stead. 

UI  wish  to  see  Violet,"  he  said. 

"She  is  not  home,  sir." 

"  Where  is  she  ?" 

"Out  sketching,  sir." 

"Where?" 

Goody  White,  who  was  usually  very  voluble,  even  with 
the  master,  in  such  awe  of  whom  she  stood,  could  not  for 
the  moment  answer  the  question  even  in  a  few  words. 
She  hesitated  and  stammered  until  Melville  Lisle  de- 
manded, harshly : 

"Well,  why  do  you  not  answer?" 

"She's  sketchin'  the  abbey,  sir,"  faltered  Goody. 

Melville  Lisle  looked  at  her  with  rising  anger  and  sus- 
picion. 

"  Woman !"  he  said,  wrathfully,  "  you  heard  what 
passed  between  me  and  Lady  Darlington  in  the  parlor" — - 
which  was  quite  true,  though  it  made  the  good  creature 
almost  jump  out  of  her  skin  to  be  so  suddenly  accused. 
"What  do  you  know  of  the  matter?" 

"Nothing,  sir;  not  a  word,  which  I  would  have  known, 
sir,  if  there'd  been  any  truth  in  it,  sir.  Leastwise  she 

always  has  told  me  when — if It  never  were  her 

fault,  sir " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  Is  it  possible  that  my  daugh- 
ter—— -  Serd  her  to  me  when  she  comes.  Stop  1  How 
long  has  she  been  sketching  the  abbey  ?" 

"  It  may  be  goin'  on  three  weeks,  sir,  or  the  like  o' 
that." 

"Why  did  you  hesitate  when  I  askd  you  where  she 
was?" 

"Yes,  sir— yes,  sir.  Hesitate — oh,  yes,  sir.  Why,  you 
see,  sir n 

'No  rambling  story — simply  the  truth." 

"  Yes,  sir.  I  was  all  struck  up,  sir,  with  what  Lady 
Darlington  had  been  sayin%  sir,  and  I  s'pose  I  thought  as 

how  it  might  be Bless  my  soul,  sir  !  she  be  as  good 

as  any  Darlington  as  ever  lived,  and  maybe ' 

"We  will  not  discuss  that,"  interrupted  Mr.  Lisle. 

But  Goody  was  launched  now,  and  even  her  fear  of  the 
wrath  of  her  master  could  not  check  her. 

"  Ay,  but  'twas  a  good  un  you  gave  her  ladyship  about 
the  baker  man  1  I  had  to  clap  my  hand  to  my  mouth  to 
hush  my — — " 

' 


P.ARWTS  AND  CHILDREN.  39 

"  Be  still !"  thundered  he,  thumping   his    fist   angrily  on 
t.he  table.     " Send  Violet  to  me  when  she  comes  in." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

PARENTS  AND   CHILDREN. 

Very  much  troubled,  in  spite  of  herself,  by  her  inter- 
view with  Guy,  yet  very  happy  withal,  Violet  returned 
home  that  afternoon  from  the  abbey  woods.  She  wished 
more  time  to  think  it  all  over,  and  went  around  by  the 
village,  stopping  at  a  cottage  here  and  there,  as  her  cus- 
tom was,  to  say  a  cheery  word  to  some  bedridden  inmate. 

She  had  very  little  but  kind  words  and  little  helpful 
acts  to  give,  but  no  Lady  Bountiful  was  ever  received 
with  gladder  smiles  than  she  was,  and  it  was  always  an 
innocent  pleasure  to  her  to  know  that  with  all  the  narrow- 
ness of  her  life  she  was  yet  able  to  do  some  good. 

And  to-day,  as  she  went  from  one  poor  hut  to  another, 
her  heart  was  filled  with  happiness  at  the  thought  that 
when  she  was  Lady  Darlington  she  could  do  many  things 
to  brighten  the  lives  that  now  seemed  to  have  no  sunshine 
in  them. 

But  already  she  herself  was  sunshine  enough.  Not  to 
the  old  a  ad  decrepit  only,  but  to  the  young  and  strong, 
for  as  she  passed  through  the  village  more  than  one  heart 
was  lightened  by  a  smile  from  her,  and  even  the  children 
stopped  in  their  play  to  look  up  and  greet  her. 

When  she  turned  into  the  lane  that  led  to  her  own  cot- 
tage she  espied  Goody  White  leaning  over  the  gate,  and  it 
seemed  to  her  that  there  was  something  of  trouble  indi 
cated  in  the  attitude ;  but  she  laughed  softly,  thinking 
the  cake  had  been  overbrowned,  or  that  Speckle  had 
taken  to  eating  her  eggs,  as  Goody  had  long  suspected. 

Then  Goody  looked  up  and  saw  her,  and  with  a  furtive 
look  behind,  to  see  if  she  was  watched,  opened  the  gate, 
and  hurried 'down  the  lane  to  meet  her  darling.  And 
Violet  gayly  fell  into  an  old  childish  trick  and  ran  skip- 
ping  to  meet  her.  But  when  they  were  quite  near  and 
Goody  cried  out,  in  a  woeful  tone,  "Oh,  Miss  Vi'let  1"  she 
stopped  and  waited. 

"What  is  it,  Goody?" 

"Your  father.     Oh,  he  is " 

"Not  ill,  Goody?" 

**No,  but  that  ragin' !    I  never  see  him  like  it  before,  no 


40  PARENTS  AND  CHILDREN. 

never.  And  you,  my  blessed  lamb,  the  cause,  of  it ;  and 
you  never  told  me  a  word." 

A  sudden  consternation  seized  Violet. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Goody?" 

"He's  found  it  all  out,  every  bit  of  it,  and  she's  been 
here,  too.  But  he  give  her  as  good  as  she  sent,  and  bet- 
ter, too.  The  Darlingtons,  he  said,  came  from  a  baker 
man,  and  she  couldn't  deny  it.  But  he's  that  ragin'  !" 

"  Who's  been  here,  Goody  ?   What  is  papa  angry  about  ?" 


"YOUR  FATHER'S  RAGIN'." 

"Lady  Darlington,  and  he  wants  to  see  you  at  once. 
Oh,  my  poor  lamb  !  Why  didn't  you  tell  your  Goody  all 
about  it?" 

Through  the  incoherence  of  the  good  creature  Violet 
could  determine  that  something  affecting  her  happiness 
had  taken  place  at  the  house  that  afternoon,  and  that  her 
father  was  angrily  awaiting  her  coming.  It  was  always 


PARENTS  AND  CUlLDLiEN.  41 

easier  for  Violet  to  face  a  trouble  than  to  shirk  it,  and  she 
quickened  her  step  at  once,  soothing  Goody  with  caresses 
and  kind  words. 

She  removed  her  hat  as  she  ran  up  stairs,  and  held  it 
dangling  as  she  entered  the  library  after  knocking  and 
being  bidden  to  enter. 

Her  father  had  evidently  been  pacing  the  floor,  and  his 
face  was  dark  with  anger  as  he  turned  and  looked  from 
her  dusty  boots  to  her  hat  hanging  by  its  ribbon  from  her 
arm. 

"  You  wished  me  to  come  to  you,  papa  ?" 

"  Where  have  you  been  ?"  he  sternly  demanded. 

u  In  the  abbey  woods. " 

"Doing  what?" 

"  You  are  angry  with  me,  papa ;  will  you  not  tell  me 
why  ?"  said  Violet,  with  a  sweet  dignity. 

u  Yes,  but  tell  me  first  what  you  were  doing  in  the  abbey 
woods.1" 

"Sketching  the  abbey — part  of  the  time." 

"  And  the  other  part  ?" 

Violet  flushed  at  the  tone,  but  answered,  slowly  : 

"Talking  with  Lord  Darlington." 

"And  may  I  ask,"  he  said,  with  a  fury  hardly  concealed 
under  an  elaborate  attempt  at  irony,  "how  long- you  have 
known  Lord  Darlington,  and  what  you  talk  about  ?  I  am 
only  your  father,  but  I  would  like  to  know." 

The  little  tremor  of  dismay  which  Violet  had  felt  at 
first  had  passed  away  now,  and  she  found  herself  wonder- 
ing at  her  own  calmness. 

"  I  have  known  Lord  Darlington  a  little  more  than  three 
weeks." 

"  And  what  is  it  that  you  talk  of  together  ?" 

"Papa,"  she  said,  with  gentle  deprecation,  "  please  do 
not  speak  to  me  in  that  way ;  please  do  not  be  angry." 

"  Angry  1"  he  repeated.  "  I  wonder  that  I  can  restrain 
myself  at  all.  Is  it  really  true,  then,  that  my  daughter 
has  brought  such  a  shame  and  disgrace  upon  the  name  she 
bears  ?" 

"  Papa  !"  she  cried,  in  a  sort  of  horror.  "  How  can  you 
say  such  a  thing.  How  can  you  think  it  ?" 

"  How  can  I  say  it,  miserable  girl !  Is  it  not  true  that 
you  have  clandestinely  met  this  Lord  Darlington  these 
past  three  weeks — Heaven  knows  how  often  ?" 

"It  is  true,  papa,"  replied  Violet,  with  exquisite  dig- 
nity, "and  it  is  also  true  that  I  have  promised  to  be  his 
wife." 


42  PARENTS  AND  CHILDREN. 

"His  wife  I  His  wife  you  shall  never  be  !"  he  cried, 
furiously.  "Let  it  pass  that  you  have  held  your  duty  to 
me  so  light  that  you  would  meet  this  young  man  clandes- 
tinely ;  that  you  held  your  own  reputation  at  so  cheap  a 
rate.  Forget  that  if  you  can.  But  how  could  you  forget 
what  you  owe  to  me — to  yourself — in  laying  yourself  open 
to  the  charge  of  inveigling  Lord  Darlington  into  a  mar- 
riage with  you  ?" 

u  Who  can  have  said  such  a  thing  ?"  demanded  Violet. 
"Who  can   have   said  it?    Do  you  know  what  has  hap- 
pened while  you  were  meeting  your  lover  ?" 
"I  know  that  Guy's  mother  has  been  here." 
"Guy!     Use   no   such  familiarity.     Yes,  Lady  Darling- 
ton has  been  here,  to  warn  me  that  she  will  not  have  her 
son  marry  you  ;  that  she  will  not  permit  him  to  form  such 
a  misalliance.     Misalliance  !  do  you  hear  ?     To  me,  who.se 
blood  was  noble  five  centuries  before  her  beggarly  ple- 
beian ancestor  knew  his  father's  name.     I  tell  you,  girl,  I 
have  suffered  such  an  insult  this  day  as  I  shall  never  for- 
get, and  all  through  you  and  your  lack  of  proper  modesty." 
"  I  am  sorry,  papa,  but  I  did  not  mean  to  deceive  you.    I 
met  Guy— Lord  Darlington— accidentally,  and  loved  him. 
He  loved  me,  and  told  me  so,  asking  me  to  be  his  wife." 

"  His  wife  !  Well,  there  is  an  end  of  that.  I  will  write 
to  him  this  very  day,  and  you  shall  inclose  a  note  releasing 
him  from  any  engagement  he  has  made  with  you.  It 
shall  never  be  said  the  Melville  Lisle\s  daughter  obtained 
a  husband  by  intrigue.  Go  !  write  the  note  now,  and  let 
it  be  brief  and  formal." 

"  But,  papa,  he  does  not  wish  to  be  released,  and  I  love 
him." 

"Not  a  word.  Do  as  I  bid  you.  It  is  the  only  way  ID 
which  you  can  recover  my  respect." 

"Papa,"  said  Violet,  her  face  white  with  the  emotion  of 
the  moment,  "  I  cannot  write  as  you  bid  me.  I  love  Guy, 
and  I  have  promised  to  be  his  wife." 

"You  refuse  !    Do  you  dare  to  disobey  me?" 
"I  do  not  wish  to  disobey  you,  papa.     Oh,  papa,  dear, 
listen  to  me  for  a  moment.     Do   not  ask  me  to  wreck  my 
happiness  for  life  for  a  mere  whim — for  the  gratification, 
of  a  foolish  pride.     You  do  not  know  Guy.     If  you  didl 
you  would  gladly  accept  him  as  a   son.     He  will  win  hisn 
mother  to  see   it  as  he  sees  it,  and  then  we  should  be  so 
happy." 

uld  have  listened  to  her  any* 


PARENTS  AND  CHILDREN.  & 

how,  out  after  her  words  about  his  pride  and  his  whim  he 
was  only  more  furiously  angry. 

lk  Let  us  have  no  more  words  about  it,"  he  said.  "  Go  to 
vour  room,  and  do  as  I  bid  you.  Write  that  note,  and 
never  again  either  look  at  or  speak  to  him.  You  shall 
not — I  say  you  shall  not  drag  the  name  of  Lisle  in  the 
mud." 

"  J  cannot  write  that  note,  papa." 


"  I  SAY  YOU  SHALL  NOT  DRAG  THE  NAME  LISLE  IN  THE  MUD  !" 

u  Go  to  your  room,  shameless  girl !"  thundered  Melville 
Lisle,  and  Violet  left  him  with  indignation  in  her  heart. 

Rendered  more  than  ever  furious  by  the  opposition  of  a 
daughter  whose  hidden  strength  of  character  he  had  no 
conception  of,  Melville  Lisle  sat  down  at  his  desk,  deter- 
mined to  write  a  letter  to  Lord  Darlington  that  should  at 
onro  forever  disabuse  him  of  fche  thought  that  Violet  Lisle 
i-ould.  ever  be  his  wife. 


44  PARENTS  AND  CHILDREN. 

It  was  not  easy  to  be  satisfied  in  such  a  case,  for  before 
everything  he  was  determined  to  put  his  own  dignity  and 
pride  ;  and  however  angry  he  might  be  with  Violet  and 
Goody  he  could  not  permit  a  descendant  of  the  Lisles  to 
do  a  thing  that  could  ever  be  called  in  question. 

So  he  wrote  and  tore  up  sheet  after  sheet,  as  lacking 
in  one  or  more  of  the  essentials  to  a  letter  from  Melville 
Lisle,  until  at  last  he  had  produced  an  epistle,  which  he 
believed  might  be  put  to  any  test  and  come  forth  triumph- 
ant. In  all  his  vain  fretting  there  had  not  once  intruded 
a  thought  of  the  happiness  of  his  daughter.  It  was  all 
Melville  Lisle. 

He  had  given  up  the  intention  of  compelling  Violet  to 
write  a  renunciation,  for  it  had  occurred  to  him  that  it 
would  be  a  more  dignified  course  to  ignore  even  any  sus- 
picion of  right  on  her  part  to  any  voice  in  the  matter. 
Melville  Lisle  was  the  one  person  injured,  Melville  Lisle 
was  the  arbiter  of  her  fate,  and  he  alone  needed  to  speak. 

A  fc  the  castle  Lady  Darlington  was  as  yet  the  only  per  • 
son  distu)  bed  by  the  events  of  the  afternoon.  A  sense  of 
humiliation  and  complete  defeat  rankled  in  her  heart, 
even  though  she  now  felt  safe  as  to  Guy.  She  would  not 
tell  him  that  she. had  been  to  see  Mr.  Lisle,  though  she  did 
not  doubt  that  he  would  learn  of  it  in  some  way. 

He  did,  just  before  dinner,  when  Mr.  Lisle's  letter  was 
handed  to  him  by  a  footman,  who  said  it  had  been  brought 
by  a  village  lad,  who  said  there  was  no  answer. 

Guy  opened  it  wonderingly,  but  with  a  light  heart,  for 
it  did  not  matter  to  him  now  if  the  whole  world  opposed. 
He  had  Violet's  promise  to  elope  and  be  his  wife.  He 
had  no  suspicion,  however,  of  what  was  in  the  letter,  and 
nobody  was  further  from  his  thoughts  than  Melville  Lisle. 

He  had  come  down  from  his  room,  and  stood  in  the  hall 
as  he  read  the  letter,  Lady  Darlington  watching  him  with 
a  feeling  that  the  letter  was  from  -Melville  Lisle.  She  saw 
his  brow  knit  as  he  read  ;  she  saw  him  re-read  the  letter. 
That  was  all.  There  was  no  sign  of  distress  or  of  anger. 
He  shrugged  his  shoulders  almost  imperceptibly,  and 
entered  the  drawing-room. 

She  felt  relieved.  But  if  she  had  known  what  thoughts 
had  been  sent  flying  through  Guy's  brain  by  that  perfect 
letter  of  Melville  Lisle  she  would  have  eaten  no  dinner. 
Guy  did  not  eat  a  great  deal,  but  he  was  so  full  of  jests 
and  merry  talk  that  no  one  noticed  that  he  ate  so  lictle. 

After  the  long,  ceremonious  meal  was  over  Guy  made 
an  excuse  for  leaving  the  guests,  and  went  to  his  room, 


PAfiEZTH  AXD  CHILDREN. 

where  he  passed  some  time  in  an  occupation  very 
Melville  Lisle's  before  dinner.  He  wrote  several  letters 
before  he  could  settle  upon  one  to  suit  him.  That  letter 
he  directed  to  his  mother,  and  put  on  his  writing-table. 
His  valet  he  dismissed  for  the  night,  and  then  dressed 
himself  for  a  journey,  and  left  the  castle. 
He  did  not  order  a  carriage,  but  had  a  horse  saddled, 


LADY  DARLINGTON  SAW   HIS  BROW   KNIT   AS   HE   READ   AND 
RE-READ   THE   LETTER. 

and  rode  out  of  the  yard  on  it.  He  rode  quietly  a,t  first, 
and  then  broke  into  a  gallop  and  went  toward  the  village. 

%'It  will  seem  sudden,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  but  I  think 
she  will  be  willing." 

Lady  Darlington  meantime  knew  her  son  had  taken  a 
horse  and  left  the  castle,  but  she  only  smiled  ana  said  to 
herself : 


46  A  HEROIC  REMEDY. 

"I  think  he  will  not  enjoy  his  visit  to  the  descendant  of 
the  Lisles  any  more  than  I  did." 
She  thought  he  was  going  to  plead  with  Melville  Lisle. 


CHAPTER  X. 

A    HEROIC    REMEDY. 

The  evening  meal  at  the  cottage— it  had  been  a  very  un- 
comfortable one — was  over.  Melville  Lisle  was  in  his 
library,  endeavoring  to  forget  the  occurrences  of  the  day 
in  his  great  work  on  Diaphragmatic  Propulsion,  Violet 
had  retired  to  her  own  little  room,  and  Goody  White  was, 
in  the  kitchen,  discussing,  with  the  dishes  she  was  wash- 
ing, the  difference  between  aristocratic  and  plebeian  love 
making. 

Another  view  of  the  same  idea  was  occupying  Violet's 
thoughts,  as  she  sat  by  her  one  window,  looking  out  at  the 
stars  as  they  one  by  one  crept  up  to  the  dark  canopy  of 
heaven  and  peeped  through.  Why  should  Lady  Darling- 
ton object  to  her  marrying  Guy  because  she  was  poorer 
than  he  ?  And  why  should  her  father  object  because  Guy 
was  richer  than  she?  for,  after  all,  those  seemed  to  be  the 
only  reasons. 

At  least  she  could  not  see  that  there  were  any  others 
outside  of  her  father's  wounded  pride,  and  it  had  been 
that  very  pride  of  his  that  she  had  considered  most  of  all. 
When  she  had  consented  to  an  elopement  with  Guy  hor 
chief  reason  had  truly  been  that  Guy  wished  it,  but  her 
second  reason  was  that  she  felt  that  her  father  would  for- 
give anything  to  Lady  Darlington.  She  had  never 
counted  on  his  affection,  for  he  had  taught  her  never  to 
think  of  that ;  but  she  had  believed  she  could  count  on  his 
pride,  and  now  even  that  was  in  arms  against  her  happi- 
ness. 

It  was  all  so  unreasonable  to  her,  and  think  it  over  as 
she  would  she  always  seemed  to  come  to  one  conclusion— 
that  Guy  was  the  only  one  who  thought  of  any  one  but 
himself.  He  thought  of  her  first,  and  found  his  own  hap- 
piness in  hers.  And  this  was  not  in  her  case  merely  the 
self-interested  fancy  of  «i  crossed  girl.  It  was  really  nmrc 
true  than  she  knew.  Lady  Darlington  and  Melville  Lisla 
were  playing  with  the  two  young  people  as  if  they  had 
been  senseless  pawns  on  a  chess-board. 

What  wonder  that  all  her  thoughts  centered  on  Guy 


A  HEROIC  hEMEDY.  4? 

Turlington,  and  what  he  would    have  her  do  !     Her  father 

Iwid  nevi'T  had  her  confidence,  had  never  wished  it,  and  in 

worldly  ignorance  it  seemed  to  her  that  the  man  who 

lover,  and  surely  would  be  her  husband  --a  warm, 

py  flush  suffused  her  faee  at  the  .mere    thought — was 

the  one.  who  should  guide  her. 

And    so   she  sat,  with  her  elbow  resting  on  the  wrindow- 

ledgo,  and  her  dainty  chin  in  her  shell-like  palm,  thinking 

<>   and   more   of   Guy,  and  less  and  less  of  the  trouble 

•     compassed     them;     listening,    unheeding,    to     the 

notorious  click  and   rattle   of'thfi   dishes  down  stairs, 

.  smiling  with  the  sxtf^t  serenity  that  belonged   rather 

er  childhood  than  to  the  womanhood  she  was  entering 

im  in  such  a  stormy  way. 

And  down   in   the   kitchen   indignant  old  Goody  White 

3  risking  the   soundness   of   tho  china  in  many  an  un- 

•essary   fling,  each  risk  representing  her  emphasized 

opinion   of   a   man   who   would   interpose    between     two 

lovers,  particularly  when   the   one   of  them  she  was  most 

interested  in  was  to  gain  so  much  ;  for  even  old  Goody,  to 

whom  Violet  was  the  dearest  thing  in  the  world,  saw  the 

worldly  advantage  most  clearly. 

Of  course  she  believed  that  her  Violet,  with  her  beauty 
jiud  ancient  lineage,  was  good  enough  for  anybody  outside 
the  royal  family,  find  she  was  not  entirely  clear  that  the 
Lisles  were  not  better  in  the  matter  of  old  blood  than  even 
the  royal  family.  Then  she  chuckled  gleefully  as  she 
rested  from  rinsing  the  dishes,  and  repeated  with  all 
possible  unction  that  the  Darlingtons  came  from  a  baker 
man. 

Still  Melville  Lisle,  with  all  his  wealth  of  blood,  was  a 
poor  man,  and  it  was  like  flying  in  the  face  of  Providence 
for  him  to  lift  a  hand  to  keep  two  loving  hearts  apart 
especially  when  one  of  those  loving  hearts-  brought 
with  it  a  title  and  a  good  income.  Of  cours3  it  was  a 
^roat  thing  to  be  a  Lisle,  but  it  was  not  by  any  means  a 
Had  thing  to  be  Lady  Darlington ;  and  Goody,  for  one, 
was  for  letting  the  poor  young  man  have  his  own  way. 

Everybody  said,  too,  that  he  was  a  very  proper  vomit; 
gentleman,  handsome,  kind,  and  good-tempered.  She  juso 
wished  she  had  something  to  say  about  it.  If  she  would 
not  put  Violet's  hand  in  his  and  say,  uTake  her,  and 
Heaven  bless  you  both  !" 

:  that  I  would,'1'  muttered  Goody,  taking  up  a  pile 
of  <•;  rvirry  thorn    to  the   cupboard.     "  And  what  a 

Lady  Darlington   she   would   make,  to  be  sure  !    A 


48  A  HEROIC  REMEDY. 

beautifuler  they  could  not  find,  no,  not  at  the  court  itself, 
if  I  do  say  it.     Mer'*y  me  !  what's  that?" 

She  pushed  the  dishes  on  the  shelf  and  listened.  Surely 
a  low  knock  at  the  kitchen  door.  Now,  who  could  it  be 
coming  to  see  her  at  that  time  o'  night?  And  Goody 
stopped  at  the  cupboard  to  think  it  out  instead  of  going  to 
the  door.  But  whoever  it  was  might  be  modest  enough  to 
knock  softly,  and  yet  not  be  over  patient,  for  while  Goody 
was  still  wondering  who  it  could  be  there  came  another 
knock. 

Then  she  opened  the  door,  and  was  about  to  exclaim 
aloud  at  the  sight  of  a  tall  young  man  standing  there,  but 
the  young  man  laid  his  finger  on  his  lips  and  said  "  Sh-h  !" 
and  smiled,  and  so  Goody  retreated  into  the  room  and 
stood  ready  to  flee  if  need  were. 

" I  know  you  must  be  Goody  While,"  said  the  young 
man,  so  pleasantly  that  Goody  answered  in  the  same  low 
tone  that  he  used. 

"So  they  call  me  that  have  the  right.     Mrs. — " 

"  It  was  Violet  taught  me  to  call  you  so,"  said  the  young 
man. 

Goody  started  with  a  sudden  thought,  and  stepped 
nearer,  that  she  might  have  a  better  look  at  her  visitor. 
He  smiled  and  took  a  step  irside* 

"  Body  o'  me  !    I  do  believe  it's  Lord  Darlington." 

He  nodded  his  head  and  smiled. 

"You  know  all  about  it,  don't  you,  Goody?  And  you 
are  our  friend,  I  am  sure,"  he  said. 

"A  very  pleasant  spoken  young  gentleman  as  ever 
was,"  thought  Goody,  and  she  answered  him  : 

"  I  nursed  Miss  Violet  from  a  baby,  your  lordship,  and 
the  very  first  blessed  word  she  ever  spoke — and  that  not 
so  her  own  father  could  understand,  even  if  he'd  cared  to, 
which  I  must  say  he  didn't,  bein'  taken  up  with  other 
things  always — that  word  was 'Dood,1  which  she  meant 
for  Goody,  and  the  same  I've  always  been  to  her.  Her 
friend  I  am  and  all  that's  her  true  friends,  which  I  hope 
your  lordship  are." 

"So  Violet  has  always  told  mo,  Goody,  and  that  is  why 
I  come  to  you  to-night,  when  T  think  you  can  help  us 
both." 

"And  help  she  needs,  poor  lamb  !" 

"Well,  I'm  sure,  Goody,  that  you  and  I  will  do  any- 
thing in  this  world  to  make  her  happv.  She  has  told  me 
so  much  about  you  that  when  I  found  how  crooked  every- 
thing was  going  I  made  up  my  mind  to  come  to  you. 


A  HAR01C  REMEDY.  49 

You  knew  her  father  had  written  to  me  to  say  that  Violet 
released  me  from  my  engagement  to  her,  and  did  not  wish 
ever  to  see  or  speak  with  me  again?" 

"  Nay,  I  did  not  know  that,  but  a  wicked  story  it  is,  to 
be  sure,  for  I  heard  Miss  Vi'let,  with  my  own  ears — her 
voice  bein'  raised  a  little  in  consequence  o'  her  feelin's 
bein'  worked  up,"  explained  the  good  woman,  recalling 
how  she  had  happened  to  hear.  "An'  she  said  right  out 
plain,  'I  love  him  an'  promised  to  marry  him,'  which  if  it 
was  my  last  word  I  would  say  she  was  a  blessed  martyr." 

"Then  you  will  help  us,  won't  you,  Goody?'' 

"  Only  tell  me  how,  your  lordship. " 

"Bring  Violet  here,  that  I  may  say  a  few  words  to  her." 

"So  I  will,  for  he  can't  no  more  than  kill  me  for  it,"  and 
as  if  killing  was  too  much  a  trifle  to  consider  a  second 
time  Goody  went  softly  out  of  the  room  without  another 
word. 

Then  Guy,  standing  there,  could  hear  the  movement  of 
feet  over  his  head,  and  a  few  minutes  later  Violet,  with 
radiant  face,  was  standing  before  him. 

"  Oh,  Guy  !  1  know  now  why  I  was  not  more  unhappy. 
My  heart  knew  you  would  come  to  me.  You  know  all 
about  it,  then  ?" 

•k  Yes,  my  darling,  my  mother  has  been  here  to  tell  your 
father  that  I  must  not  marry  you,  and  your  father  has 
written  to  me,  saying  a  number  of  things,  all  of  which 
only  mean  that  he  will  not  let  you  marry  me. " 

4 'But  you  seem  happy,  Guy!" 

"Well,  for  that  matter,  so  do  you,"  laughed  Guy. 

"But  that  is  because  I  am  here,"  said  Violet,  looking  up 
from  his  breast. 

"  And  do  you  think  that  is  not  also  enough  reason  for 
my  happiness?  But  there  is  another  reason,  dear.  I 
knew  you  would  not  be  affected  by  what  had  happened. 
I  know  my  mother,  and  I  know  Miat  I  could  not  make  her 
happier  than  by  marrying  you.  She  will  not  believe  it 
now  ;  but  she  will  afterward.  As  for  your  father,  dear, 
what  else  could  he  do  than  to  say  you  must  not  marry  me 
after  mother  had  come  to  him  ?  But  I  am  sure  he  will  be 
glad  when  it  is  done,  and  cannot  be  laid  to  his  charge." 

Violet  was  ready  enough  to  accept  anything  Guy  might 
say  about  his  mother :  but  she  knew  her  father  better. 
She  shook  her  head. 

"If  I  take  you,  Guy,  I  must  give  up  papa." 

"And  yet  you  would  b©  willing,  my  darling?" 

"Is  it  wrong,  Guy,  to  love  you  the  better?" 


50 


A  flKKOW 


"How  can  it  be  ?  Is  it  not  said  that  the  wife  shall  leave 
father  and  mother  to  cling  to  her  husband  ?  And  are  we 
not  already  pledged  to  each  other  before  Heaven  ?" 

She  clung  to  him  without  answering.  It  was  so  sw<-.vo 
to  have  him  love  her  so  ;  and  yet  down  in  her  heart  there 
was  something  she  could  not  help  hearing,  saying  to  her 
that  it  was  wrong  to  defy  their  parents.  But,  after  ail, 


"OH,   GUY  !  MY  HEART  KNEW  YOU  WOULD  COME  TO  ME  !" 

the  strongest  feeling  was  her  love  for  Guy,  and  if  he  said 
do  this  it  should  be  done.  If  only  it  were  best  for  him. 

"You  are  silent,  darling,"  he  said,  gently. 

"  I  was  thinking,  Guy.  I  have  a  feeling  that  it  may  not 
be  quite  right — proper  I  mean  perhaps — but  I  can  hush 
that  feeling  and  do  what  you  wish  me  ;  but,  Guy,  darling, 
suppose  it  should  be  wrong  and  should  lead  somehow  to 
your  unhappiness.  I  do  not  mind  for  myself.  I  would 


A  HEROIC  REMEDY. 

be  glad  to  suffer  unhappiness  for  you,  but  I  could  not  bear 
iiink  that  you  were  unhappy  and  I  the  cause." 

''Dear  little  'Violet !  How  like  you  that  is.  No.  I,  too, 
have  thought  it  out.  I  have  tried  to  see  if  it  could  bring 
unhappiiiess  to  you  in  any  way  ;  but  all  I  could  see  wa?s 
that  I  was  not  at  all  worthy  of  you,  and  that  that  might 
make  you  unhappy  some  time ' 

"  When  I  found  it  out,"  she  interjected,  with  a  soft  lit- 
tle laugh  of  incredulity. 

He  pressed  his  lips  to  her  forehead,  and  stroked  her 
hair. 

"  Of  course  you  do  not  believe  it,  and  I  suppose  I  am 
very  glad  of  it ;  but  it  is  so.  I  am  not  worthy  of  you, 
darling ;  but  I  do  think  I  would  give  you  up  this  moment, 
and  let  you  think  me  base  even,  if  it  would  conduce  to 
your  happiness.  I  would  give  you  up,  though  I  know,  as 
I  say  it,  that  it  would  ruin  my  life  to  do  it.  You  believe 
that,  don't  you,  darling?" 

"Yes,  Guy,"  and  she  wondered,  as  she  said  it,  if  she 
could  be  as  noble  as  that. 

"Then,  darling,"  went  011  Guy,  "let  us  take  the  risk. 
See  ;  it  is  quite  certain  that  it  will  make  no  real  difference 
to  my  mother  or  your  father ;  but  it  wrill  make  all  the 
difference  to  you  and  me.  We  love  each  other,  and  there 
is  no  good  reason  why  we  should  not  marry — they  only 
say,  *  You  must  not. '  Why,  even  if  we  were  to  give  up 
our  own  happiness  what  would  it  benefit  them  ?  I  would 
marry  no  one  else  but  you.  Would  you  marry  any  one 
but  me?" 

"I  could  not." 

"  Then,  see  !  We  should  all  be  unhappy  in  that  case. 
But  if  you  and  I  make  each  other  happy  then  they  will  be 
reconciled  in  time." 

"It  is  so  easy  to  think  as  you  do,  Guy.  I  will  do  as 
you  say,  dear,  for  I  trust  you  more  than  I  do  myself." 

"May  Heaven  bless  you,  my  darling,  and  guide  me  to 
do. that  which  is  best  for  you.  Let  us  go  away  to-night." 

"To-night!     Oh,  Guy!" 

"It  is  sudden,  darling  ;  but  if  it  is  to  be  some  time  why 
not  now  ?  It  -rvill  save  all  the  wretchedness  of  opposition 
that  is  sure  to  be  our  lot  if  we  wait  for  it.  I  have  made 
all  arrangements  to  go.  We  will  walk  over  to  the  station, 
take  the  ten  o'clock  train  to  London,  have  a,  delightful 
ride  together,  and  to-morrow  morning  make  you  Lady 
T>arlington,  and  me  the  happiest  man  in  all  the  world." 

She  l  ;i>  at  him  and  smiled,  but  she  shrank  from 


52  ^A  PURSUIT. 


taking  such  a  step  ;  it  seemed  like  taking  a  leap  over  the 
edge  of  a  precipice,  for  in  all  her  life  she  had  never  been 
fifteen  miles  away  from  Penarth.  And  yet  it  seemed  to 
her  that  if  Guy  had  stood  oy  her  side  on  the  edge  of  a 
veritable  precipice,  and  had  said,  uLet  us  step  over 
together,"  she  would  have  done  it. 

"Will  you  do  it,  darling?"  he  asked. 

If  he  had  not  bent  his  head  until  his  cheek  rested  on 
hers  ha  could  not  have  heard  the  faintly  whispered  "Yes." 



CHAPTER  XI. 

IN    PURSUIT. 

At  the  castle  Lady  Darlington  endeavored,  with  some 
success,  to  make  her  guests  forget  the  absence  of  Guy. 
It  was  singular  that  she  should  have  felt  so  certain  chat 
Guy  would  obtain  no  sympathy  from  Melville  Lisle ;  but 
in  truth  she  was  able  to  do  complete  justice  to  a  character 
like  that  of  the  poor  aristocrat. 

It  was  only  toward  the  daughter  that  she  felt  any 
anger  ;  toward  the  father  she  found  herself  leaning  with  a 
growing  admiration.  It  pleased  her  to  see  the  precious 
possession  of  birth  so  highly  prized,  and  she  found  herself 
planning  that  when  Guy  was  safely  married  to  Sibyl  she 
would  take  up  the  Lisles,  or — and  she  actually  smiled  at 
the  thought— she  would  let  Melville  Lisle  take  her  up. 
At  any  rate,  he  was  a  congenial  spirit,  and  worthy  of  a 
better  fate  than  had  fallen  to  his  lot. 

She  listened  during  the  evening  for  the  ring  of  the  hoofs 
on  the  paved  court-yard  which  should  announce  the  re- 
turn of  her  son  from  the  defeat  she  knew  he  would  experi- 
ence, and  as  the  time  went  by,  and  she  was  disappointed, 
she  became  uneasy.  But  at  last,  somewhere  near  ten 
o'clock,  she  heard  the  sound  of  hoofs  clattering  over  the 
stones,  and  then  waited  expectantly  for  Guy  to  come  in, 
something  like  pity  for  him  stirring  her  heart. 

He  did  not  come,  however,  and  she  felt  that  it  had  been 
a  hard  blow  for  him.  He  had  probably  gone  to  his  rooms 
at  once,  unable,  perhaps,  to  face  the  guests  in  the  drawing- 
room.  Poor  boy  !  as  he  grew  to  know  the  world  better  he 
would  have  more  fortitude  to  bear  a  disappointment  such 
as  this.  And  with  this  she  dismissed  the  subject  from 
her  mind,  and  gave  her  whole  attention  to  her  guests  un- 
til she  retired,  when  it  occurred  to  her  again,  and  she 
said,  casually,  to  her  maid  i 


IN  PURSUIT,  $8 

"  Lord  Darlington  went  to  his  rooms  at  once  OH  return- 
ing, did  he  not,  Haskins  ?" 

"I  don't  think  he's  returned,  your  ladyship." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  heard  his  horse  about  ten  o'clock." 

"  It  was  one  of  the  village  boys  brought  that,  my  lady, 
I  am  quite  sure.  I  suppose  he  brought  a  message,  too." 

Lady  Darlington  started  up  in  alarm,  but  instantly  com- 
posed herself,  and  said,  in  her  quietest  tone  : 

"  The  groom  must  have  forgotten  the  message.  Send — 
no,  go  yourself,  Haskins,  and  find  out  about  it." 

So  Haskins,  with  an  inkling  that  something  was  wrong 
at  the  castle,  hastened  out  to  the  stables  and  roused  one 
of  the  grooms  to  inquire  about  the  horse  and  the  message. 

u  There  weren't  no  message,"  said  the  groom,  sulky  at 
being  roused  from  a  sound  sleep. 

u  You  didn't  take  the  horse  and  let  the  boy  go  without  a 
word,  did  you  ?"  demanded  Haskins,  with  the  sharpness 
of  one  who  is  near  enough  to  the  throne  to  assume  some 
authority. 

"  I  ain't  a  fool,  am  I  ?"  growled  the  groom. 

"I  am  not  so  sure  about  that,"  said   Haskins,  amiably. 

"What  did  the  boy  say  ?" 

"  'Lord  Darlington's  hoss,'  said  he.  'How  come  you  by 
it?'  says  I.  His  lordship  give  it  to  me  to  bring  home,' 
said  he.  'What  message?'  says  I.  'None  exceptin' it's 
all  right,'  said  he.  An'  that's  all  there  was  of  it." 

And  with  this  circumstantial  account  of  the  conversa- 
tion the  groom  looked  triumphant. 

"You  ninny!"  exclaimed  Haskins,  scornfully.  "No 
message,  excepting  it's  all  right.  What  is  that  but  a 
message,  I'd  like  to  know  ?"  and  leaving  the  man  crushed 
and  bewildered,  she  returned  to  her  mistress  and  made 
her  report. 

Lady  Darlington  listened  with  vague  alarm,  and  said, 
quickly  : 

"  See  Robert,  and  ascertain  if  his  master  has  returned 
yet." 

Haskins  returned  after  a  considerable  absence. 

**  Robert  has  gone  to  Houghton,  my  lady.  Lord  Dar- 
lington said  he  would  not  need  him  to-night." 

Quickly  as  a  flash  it  came  into  Lady  Darlington's  mind 
that  that  could  only  mean  that  Guy  had  not  intended  to 
return  home. 

"See  if  Lord  Darlington  has  come  home.  Go  to  his 
rooms  yourself." 

"I  have  been*  my  lady,  and  knocked,  but  did  not  receive 


64  IN  PURSUIT. 

any  answer.     I  did  not  like  to  go  in  without  your  order. '~ 

Lady  Darlington  was  greatly  disturbed,  but  she  con 
trolled  herself,  an<L  said,  composedly  :  „ 

"  I  will  go  to  his  room.  He  may  have  had  some  sudden 
call  to  London,  and  gone  without  disturbing  me.  There 
may  be  a  note  for  me." 

She  said  this  to  prepare  the  way  for  any  freak  of  his- 
lordship's.  It  was  quite  conceivable  that  the  boy  in  his 
passion  had  gone  off  to  the  city  to  plunge  into  dissipation. 
That  would  not  have  worried  her  ;  for  she  was  a  woman  of 
the  world,  and  could  have  found  excuses,  enough  for  that 
sort  of  thing.  She  hurried  to  his  rooms  with  a  fear  in  her 
heart  that  she  would  not  give  words  to. 

The  bed  was  empty,  and  had  not  been  occupied,  the 
rooms  were  silent  with  a  sort  of  desolation.  In  the  dress- 
ing-room were  signs  of  a  hurried  sorting  of  clothing,  and 
on  the  table  was  a  letter.  A  glance  showed  that  it  was 
addressed  to  her,  and  she  tore  it  open  and  read  it  as  she 
stood. 

She  read  it  to  the  last  word,  then,  for  the  first  time, 
showed  the  agony  it  had  caused  her.  She  crushed  the 
sheet  of  paper  in  her  hand,  and  sank  back  into  a  chair,, 
crying,  as  any  human  mother  would  have  done  : 

"Oh,  Guy,  Guy!" 

The  note  was  not  a  long  one,  but  it  told  everything  the 
mother  had  dreaded. 

"DEAR  MOTHER'"  it  ran,  "I  received  a  letter  this  evening  from  Mr. 
Jnsle,  telling  me  of  your  visit  to  him,  of  his  irrevocable  refusal  of  my 
suit  for  his  daughter's  hand,  and  of  her  concurrence  with  his  decision.. 
He  said  Violet  released  me  from  a  pledge  which  had  been  made  with- 
out the  concent  of  either  parent,  and  that  she  wished  never  to  see  mo 
again. 

"All  this  seems  to  me  so  unreasonable  on  your  part  and  on  his,  that 
I  have  determined  to  take  such  steps  as  will  prove  that  Violet  and  T 
are  not  to  be  molded  like  senseless  putty,  nor  to  be  blown  about  like 
feathers  in  the  wind.  By  the  time  you  receive  this,  Violet  and  I  will 
be  married. 

"I  am  more  sorry  than  you,  in  your  first  anger,  will  be  likely  to  be- 
lieve, and  I  shall  look  forward  with  the  keenest  solicitude  for  the  word 
from  you  which  will  say  that  you  are  ready  to  receive  my  wife  and 
share"  with  her  the  great  affection  which  has  always  been  mine.— Lov- 
ingly your  son,  GUY." 

It  was  the  mother  who  had  received  the  first  blow,  and 
it  had  cut  her  to  the  heart  to  know  that  her  son  had  done 
*»his  thing  with  no  further  attempt  to  win  her  willingin 
out  as  she  thought  of  it  her  anger  grew,  and   the   feeling 
that  Guy  had  made  so  little  of  her  authority  rankled  deep 


IN  PURSUIT.  55 

in  her  breast.  The  woman  of  the  world  overpowered  the 
mother,  and  she  began  to  think  if  there  could  be  no  way 
o!  escaping  what  she  was  pleased  to  cajl  "this  disgrace." 

Married  !  Why,  they  could  not  be  married  until  the 
morrow.  The  Marquis  of  Coldenham  might  suggest  some- 
thing to  prevent  the  marriage.  She  started  up  quickly 
and  sought  the  smoking-room,  where  it  was  quite  prob- 
able she  would  find  the  marquis  yawning  away  the  time 
over  his  cigar. 

-  The  marquis  was  not  one  ever  to  trouble  himself  about 
the  affairs  of  others,  but  there  were  several  things  that 
conspired  just  then  to  make  him  very  willing  to  do  service 
for  the  Countess  of  Darlington.  In  the  first  place  it  was 
very  dull  at  the  castle  for  him,  and  any  excitement  could 
only  be  a  relief ;  he  was  much  more  concerned  in  the  mar- 
riage of  his  daughter  to  Guy  than  Lady  Darlington  had 
any  notion  of,  and  he  was  desirous  that  the  marriage,  or 
at  least  the  announcement  of  the  betrothal,  should  soon 
come. 

He  turned  his  head   at  the   sound  of  Lady  Darlington's 
footsteps,  and  when  he  saw  who  it  was  drew   himself  up 
from  his  lounging  attitude  and  would  have  uttered   some 
commonplaces^Df  conventionality,  when  he  checked  him 
self  as  he  caught  sight  of  the  expression  of  her  pale  face 

" Something  has  distressed  you,  Lady  Darlington,"  he 
exclaimed,  with  real  interest,  for  his  thoughts  sprang  at 
once  to  Guy  as  the  cause. 

"Something,  indeed.     Read  this  letter,  marquis." 

He  took  the  letter  from  her  and   read   it  at   first   hur-  < 
riedly,    and   then   over   again  more  carefully.     Then  he ' 
looked  up  at  the  countess,  the  hard  set  of  his  lips  showing 
how  much  he  was  affected  by  what  he  had  read. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?"  he  asked. 

"  Anything,  everything.  I  have  come  to  you  for  help, 
marquis.  Advise  me." 

"  You  would  interfere  to  prevent  the  marriage  ?" 

"If  it  be  not  too  late.  There  is  nothing — rothing  I 
would  not  do  to  prevent  this  dreadful  thing." 

The  marquis  mused. 

"  The  marriage  cannot  take  place  until  to-morrow.  Guy 
must  have  counted  on  your  not  receiving  this  until  the 
morning.  When  does  the  next  train  leave  here  for 
London  ?"  » 

"Not  until  five  o'clock  in  the  morning." 

"That  would  get  me  there  at  seven.     Early  enough,  go 


p  IN  PURSUJT 

far  as  that  is  concerned.  Tho  trouble  would  be  to  find 
khem." 

"You  could  telegraph  to  have  the  marriage  stopped," 
said  the  countess,  with  a  sort  of  fury  at  the  thought  of 
being  outwitted,  as  she  supposed,  by  the  girl  who  had 
taken  her  son  from  her. 

"That  would  never  do,1'  said  the  more  cool-headed  man. 
"  Guy  would  only  be  angry,  ana  insist.  What  could  you 


''WHAT  DO  YOU  SUGGEST?      OH,   MARQUIS,    SAVE  MY  SON!'' 

do,  then  ?  The  girl  is  probably  of  age,  and  they  would  be 
married  in  spite  of  you.  Permit  me  to  suggest  that  some 
subtlety  must  be  practiced  in  this  instance." 

"What,  do  you  suggest?     Oh,  marquis,  save  my  son  !" 
"I  will  do  \vh<ft  I  can,  believe  me.     I  will  act  as   if   it 
were  rny  own   case.     The   father   of   this   girl  I — are  you 
satisfied  chat  he  knows  nothing  of  this  ?" 


IN  PURSUIT.  67 

"I  had  thought  so,  but  now— now  I  do  not  know  what 
to  think." 

The  marquis,  now  that  he  was  roused,  was  full  of 
energy.  He  had  said  that  he  would  act  as  if  it  were  hie 
own  case.  It  was  very  much  his  case,  in  fact,  and  he  was 
disposed  to  sacrifice  a  great  deal  of  energy  and  comfort  to 
prevent  the  marriage  that  would  not  only  make  Lady 
Darlington  unhappy,  but,  what  was  of  more  consequence 
to  him,  would  let  loose  on  him  the  money-lenders,  who 
were  only  holding  off  because  of  the  prospect  that  his 
daughter  might  become  Lady  Darlington. 

"  How  far  may  I  go  in  the  matter  ?"  he  asked. 

"Any  lengths.  If  Guy  should  do  this  thing  I  will  disin- 
herit him  and  disown  him." 

"  And  you  will  be  willing  to  pa^'  something  for  a  re- 
lease?" 

'  *  Anything — anything. " 

"  Say  five  thousand  pounds  ?  That  will  seem  a  great 
deal  of  money  to  a  girl  of  her  sort." 

"Ten  thousand,  if  you  will.  Save  Guy.  I  don't  care 
what  it  costs.  Save  him  !" 

"  I  will  save  him  if  I  can.  Depend  upon  me  to  do  all 
that  lies  in  my  power,  Lady  Darlington.  I  think  I  will 
go  now  to  see  this  man  Lisle.  I  do  not  hope  for  much 
from  him,  but  I  cannot  get  away  until  five  o'clock,  and  I 
may  learn  something.  Will  you  have  a  carriage  ordered 
for  me  ?" 

Less  than  an  hour  later  the  door  of  the  cottage  was 
opened  to  him  by  Melville  Lisle  himself.  He  had  not  yet 
retired,  and  a  loud  summons  at  that  hour  of  the  night 
excused  the  unseemliness  of  the  act.  Even  a  Lisle  might 
open  a  door  at  that  hour.  The  marquis,  with  Lady  Dar- 
lington's description  of  the  man  in  his  mind,  had  no  diffi- 
culty in  recognizing  him.  He  bowed  to  him  as  he  would 
have  done  to  the  Earl  of  Granthorpe. 

"Have  I  the  honor,"  he  said,  "of  addressing  Mr.  Lislg?" 

"You  have." 

"Permit  me  to  introduce  myself.  I  am  the  Marquis  of 
Coldenham.  I  know  the  earl,  your  cousin,  very  well,  and 
I  am  delighted  to  meet  you,  although  the  circumstances 
are  rather  peculiar  for  a  first  meeting.  I  come  on  the 
part  of  Lady  Darlingt  n." 

Even  Melville  Lisle's  pride  was  satisfied  with  the  tone 
and  manner  of  the  marquis,  and  though  inwardly  wonder- 
ing at  the  nature  of  his  errand  he  asked  him  with  stately 
courtesy  to  enter.  The  marquis  did  sorand  having  read 


IN  PURSUIT. 


of 


his  man  so  well  was  too  acute  to  make  the  mistake 
beating  about  the  bush. 

u  My  errand  to  you  at  this  unusual  hour  is  a  peculiar 
one,  Mr.  Lisle,  and  I  think  that  between  .us,  as  men  of  the 
world,  the  frankest  statement  of  it  will  be  the  most  ac- 
ceptable. I  represent  a  distressed  mother,  and  I  trust 
you  will  bear  with  me  for  that  reason.  Her  son,  Lord 
Darlington,  has  left  home  suddenly.  A  letter  found  in 


"FROM  THIS  MOMENT  MY  DAUGHTER  is  DEAD  TO  ME  !" 

his  dressing-room  says  he  has  eloped  with  y our  daughter. 
I  cannot  believe  it,  sir,  but  it  seemed  due  to  you  to  in- 
form you  of  it." 

Melville  had  changed  color,  and  even  started,  but  he  had 
not  attempted  to  interrupt  his  visitor.  When  the  mar- 
quis had  ceased  to  speak  he  said,  coldly,  but  with  perfect 
courtesy : 


IN  PURSUIT.  59 

"It  is  impossible  that  my  daughter  can  have  done  as 
Lord  Darlington  says,  but  it  is  only  right  that  Lady  Dar- 
lington's solicitude  for  her  should  receive  the  courtesy  of 
disproof.  I  will  speak  to  my  daughter.  Pardon  me  for  a 
lew  moments." 

He  was  gone  more  than  a  few  moments,  and  when  he 
returned  his  face  was  hard  and  set.  He  held  an  open  let- 
ter in  his  hand. 

"Will  you  thank  Lady  Darlington  for  me,"  he  said, 
without  a  tremor  in  his  voice,  though  it  was  low  and 
harsh,  "  and  say  that  a  letter  from  my  daughter  confirms 
the  report  you  bring  me.  Will  you  be  good  enough  to  say 
also  that  I  reject  all  responsibility  for  her  act,  and  that 
from  this  moment  the  girl  is  dead  to  me,  whether  as  the 
wife  or  companion  of  Lord  Darlington." 

Even  the  Marquis  of  Coldenham  could  find  nothing  to 
say  to  this  stern  message,  and  he  went  away  convinced, 
as  Lady  Darlington  had  been,  that  there  had  been  no  con- 
nivance on  his  part,  and  that  it  would  be  impossible  to 
learn  anything  from  him.  He  bowed  low  and  left  him. 

The  five  o'clock  train  carried  him  to  London,  but  when 
he  stepped  out  of  the  car  he  was  as  much  at  a  loss  to  know 
where  to  go  as  he  could  well  be.  As  he  stood  hesitating 
a  sleepy-looking  porter  caught  his  eye,  and  stepped  up  to 
him  inquiringly. 

"  Anythink  I  can  do,  sir  ?" 

The  marquis  was  about  to  wave  him  haughtily  off. 
when  a  thought  flashed  through  his  brain. 

14  Were  you  on  duty  when  the  midnight  express  ar 
rived  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"I'm  looking  for  a  friend  of  mine,  who  came  on  that 
train,  and  I  forget  what  hotel  he  was  to  put  up  at.  He 
had  a  lady  with  him.  He  is  a  young  man,  tall,  dark,  and 
fine-looking.  Do  you  remember  them?"  and  he  slipped 
half  a  sovereign  into  the  man's  hand. 

"  Was  the  lady  closely  vailed,  sir,  and  about  mejum 
height?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  marquis,  on  a  venture.  "Can  you  help 
roe  to  find  where  they  went?  It'll  be  worth  another  half 
sovereign." 

"  I  can't,  sir,  but  I  know  the  cabby  as  took  'em,  an'  he'll 
tell  you.  He's  waitin'  on  the  stand  now,  sir." 

The  marquis  followed  him,  though  not  certain  that  he 
was  on  the  right  tra<'V  ;y} 


GO 


IN  PURSUIT, 


gave  him  hope,  for  the   man's  description  of  Guy  was 

perfect. 

"Take  me  to  the  hotel,"  he  said. 

"Which  one,  sir?     Where  the  gent  went,  or  the  lady?" 

This  was  better  than   the   marquis  had   hoped.     It  was 

only  Violet  he  wished  to  see,  and  it  began  to  look  as  if  he 

could  accomplish  that.     He  did  not  seem   to  hesitate,  but 

answered,  carelessly : 


THE  FIGURE  TURNED,   AND  HE  WAS  FACE  TO  FACE  WITH  THE 
MOST  BEAUTIFUL  CREATURE   HE  EVER  SAW. 

uTo  the  hotel  the  lady  went  to,  for  the  gentleman  will 
surely  be  there  the  first  thing,  and  I  might  miss  him." 

The  man  dropped  him  at  the  hotel,  a  small  but  very 
respectable  one  in  a  quiet  part  of  the  city,  and  the  mar- 
quis rang  the  bell,  wondering  if  his  luck  had  been  good 
only  in  seeming. 


PUT  TO  THE  TW1.  Cl 

•Is  Miss  Violet  Lisle  in?'1  he  asked,  in  as  matter-or- 
.(3  a  way  as  he  could. 

'*  Yes,  sir,  she  is,"  answered  the  pert  housemaid.  "Who 
shall  I  say  r 

"  Is  she  up  yet  ?" 

a  She's  in  the  parlor,  sir." 

"Then  you  needn't  announce  me.     I  will  go  right  up." 

He  still  felt  that  there  might  be  some  mistake,  but  when 
he  reached  the  parlor  and  saw  a  lonely  figure  looking  out 
of  the  window  where  only  thick  fog  could  be  seen,  he  felt 
quite  sure. 

"Miss  Lisle,"  he  said. 

The  figure  turned,  and  he  was  face  to  face  with  th? 
most  beautiful  creature  he  had  ever  looked  at.  His  first 
thought  was  that  he  could  understand  Guy's  infatuation 
now. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

PUT  TO  THE  TEST. 

It  was  the  surpassing  beauty  of  the  young  creature  that 
stood  before  him  that  first  struck  Lord  Coldenham,  but  as 
he  looked  at  her  he  became  conscious  of  the  patrician  re- 
finement of  her  features  and  the  unstudied  dignity  of  her 
manner,  and  it  came  over  him  as  a  revelation  that  here 
was  the  fit  mate  for  the  highest  peer  in  the  realm.  And 
so  great  was  the  charm  or  winsomeness  of  her  fair,  in 
nocent  young  face,  lighted  up  as  it  then  was  by  an  expres- 
sion of  wondering  inquiry,  that  even  his  calloused  heart 
was  touched,  and  he  felt — as  the  hunter  often  feels  when 
the  unsuspicious  fawn  looks  up  at  him  from  fche  dead 
mother's  side — as  if  he  could  not  do  the  thing  he  had 
come  to  do.  But,  as  the  hunter  steels  his  heart  and 
plunges  the  knife  into  the  palpitating  side  of  his  quarry, 
so  did  the  man  of  the  world  set  himself  to  his  task. 

If  he  had  been  disinterested  he  might  have  brought 
himself  to  let  matters  go  on  as  they  had  begun  ;  but  there 
was  too  much  at  stake  for  him  to  let  him  pause,  and  he 
studied  her  to  decide  the  best  way  to  accomplish  his 
object. 

"  Did  you  speak  to  me,  sir  ?"  asked  Violet,  in  her  softly 
modulated  voice. 

"If  you  are  Miss  Violet  Lisle,  yes." 

"  That  is  my  name ;  yes,  sir." 


62  PUT  TO  THE  TEST. 

"I  suppose,"  said  Lord  Coldenham,  with  his  usual 
courtesy,  "  it  will  be  best  for  me  to  speak  frankly  to  you, 
Miss  Lisle." 

A  frightened  expression  sprang  into  Violet's  blue  eyes, 
and  her  cheeks  paled. 

"  Nothing  has  happened  to " 

She  stopped,  and  looked  piteously  at  him. 

"To  Guy?"  he  said,  gently,,  for  it  was  not  in  his  nature 
to  be  unnecessarily  cruel  to  this  fair  flower.  "No  ;  he  is 
well.  But  I  do  not  come  from  Guy  ;  1  come  for  him." 

"  For  him  ?"  repeated  Violet,  wonderingly. 

"Yes — for  him,  and  for  you." 

"I  do  not  understand  you,  sir  ;  and "  she  hesitated, 

for  fear  of  giving  offense — "  and  I  do  not  know  you. " 

"'Pardon  me  for  forgetting,"  he  said,  in  his  most  cour- 
teous manner.  "  I  am  the  Marquis  of  Coldenham.  You 
may  have  heard  Guy  speak  of  me." 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir ;  Guy  has  often  spoken  of  you,  and  of 
your  daughter,"  she  answered,  smiling  sweetly,  but  with 
a  faint  frown  that  denoted  that  she  was  puzzled* 

Lord  Coldenham  bit  his  lip.  How  much  had  Guy  said 
of  Sibyl  ?  Did  this  girl  know  that  his  daughter  hc«d  been 
set  aside  for  her  ?  Certainly  there  was  nothing  to  indicate 
such  a  knowledge  in  her  expression,  and  he  could  see  that 
she  was  altogether  too  guileless  to  be  dealing  in  innuendo. 

''Can  you  not  guess,"  he  a^ked,  after  an  imperceptible 
pause,  "  why  I  am  here  ?" 

"No,  sir." 

"I  have  come  to  ask  you  to  help  me  save  Guy." 

"  Save  Guy  !" 

"  Yes,  my  dear  young  lady,  to  save  Guy — to  save  him 
from  himself." 

She  looked  at  him  with  wide-open  eyes,  into  which  the 
pitiful  look  of  fear  had  crept  again. 

"I  do  not  understand  you,  sir,"  she  said,  slowly,  shak- 
ing her  head. 

"  I  might  have  said,  to  save  you,  too,  for  if  this  mar- 
riage takes  place  you  will  suffer  as  well  as  he. " 

A  softly  spoken,  "Oh!"  issued  from  her  lips,  and  she 
drew  herself  up  with  a  pride  that  reminded  Lord  Colden- 
ham of  her  father. 

"  You  understand  me  now  ?"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  I  understand  you,  and  I  must  ask  you  to  discue* 
this  with  Guy,"  she  said,  with  a  quiet  dignity.  "I  hop* 
you  will  excuse  me  if  I  leave  you.  Guy  will  be  herr 
presently. " 


PUT  TO  THE  TEST.  63 

She  bowed,  and  would  have  withdrawn,  but  he  stopped 
her. 

"  1  beg  of  you  do  not  go  until  you  have  heard  me.  It  is 
to  you,  not  to  Guy,  that  I  must  appeal.  Guy  would  not 
u  to  me — he  would  not  listen  to  his  mother,  who  now 
ill  because  of  this  act  of  his." 

w'ill !"  repeated  Violet,  in  a  low  voice. 

'•'•  Yes,  ill,  and  I  fear  it  will  kill  her  if  this  marriage 
takes  place.  Put  yourself  in  her  place." 

ki  In  her  place  !  I  think  I  should  wish  him  to  marry 
wheie  he  loved  and  was  loved.  I  think  when  she  knows 
how  I  love  Guy  she  will  be  satisfied.  Guy  says  so." 

The  manner  in  which  those  three  little  words  were 
uttered  told  the  astute  man  the  strength  of  her  devotion 
to  Guy. 

" Guy  says  so,"  he  repeated,  with  a  sad  smile.  "Guy  is 
self-blinded.  She  will  never  accept  you  as  his  wife,  and 
it  will  kill  her." 

Violet  twisted  her  little  hands  together  in  acute  distress. 

"  It  does  not  seem  possible,  and  Guy  says  she  will  learn 
to  love  me,  too,  I  should  try  so  hard  to  make  her  love 
me.  Don't  you  think  that  when  she  knows  that  I  do  love 
Guy  she  will  feel  better?  And  Guy  loves  me." 

She  looked  at  him  so  pleadingly  that  his  heart  almost 
betrayed  him,  hard  man  as  he  was,  but  he  felt  that  he 
was  gaining.  Guy  might  come  at  any  moment.  He  must 
go  on  for  his  own  sake. 

u  Yes,"  he  said,  "Guy  loves  you — I  can  believe  that — it 
would  be  impossible  not  to,  but  when  the  first  glamour  of 
your  beauty  has  worn  off,  and  he  remembers  what  he  sac- 
rificed for  you— then  what  ?"  ' 

"Sacrificed?  what?" 

"  Has  he  not  told  you,  then,  that  he  will  be  disinherited 
by  his  mother  ?  He  has  nothing,  or  almost  nothing,  of  his 
own.  Not  enough  to  support  his  title,  and  he  is  dependent 
on  his  mother's  fortune." 

A  faint  little  smile  flitted  over  Violet's  face. 

"  We  do  not  care  for  money.  That  is  nothing.  We  love 
each  other." 

-Speak  for  yourself,  my  dear  young  lady,"  said  Lord 

Colaenham,  with  such  an  assumption  of  deep  sadness  as 

would  have  been  a  credit  to  any  actor  ;  -  but  do  not  think 

•  you  can   judge  for  Guy.     Remember  that  you   have 

n    accustomed    to   poverty,  while  he  has  never  known 

anything    else   than   affluence.     For  a   while  he  will  not 


64  J'UT  TO  THE  TMST. 

care,  but   by  and  by  he  will   long  for  what  he  has  been 
accustomed  to,  and  what  can  you  do  then  ?" 

"Love  him,1' answered  the  poor  girl,  with  a  simplicity 
that  was  divine. 

"And  he  will — hate  you,"  said  Lord  Coldenham, 
solemnly. 

"  Oh,  no — no — no  !"  cried  Violet,  vehemently. 

"Yes,  "said  the  man  of  iron,  "he  will  remember  the 
mother  he  has  lost  through  you,  and  the  money.  Do  you 
think,  in  your  innocence,  that  he  will  be  indifferent  to 
money  because  he  has  you.  Remember  your  own  father, 
and  see  how  poverty  and  privation  have  soured  him  and 
made  him  sad  and  discontented  ;  and  yet  I  do  not  doubt 
that  the  time  was  when  he  was  as  bright,  as  gay,  yes,  as 
handsome  as  Guy." 

The  poor  child  listened  to  him  with  a  growing  fear  that 
what  he  said  might  be  true.  She  could  not  understand  it, 
could  not  believe  it,  but  there  was  a  sort  of  inexorable 
logic  in  what  he  said  that  appealed  to  her  in  a  way  she 
could  nob  escape  from. 

"  What  shall  I  do  ?*  she  moaned. 

"Think,  too,  of  the  mother — broken-hearted,  ill,  dying 
perhaps.  Can  you  believe  any  happiness  will  follow  a 
marriage  that  will  cause  such  sorrow." 

"Oh,  stop!  in  mercy  stop  !  How  can  I  give  up  Guy 
when  I  love  him  so ?  How  can  I?" 

"Ah,"  said  Lord  Coldenham,  shaking  his  head,  "better 
to  give  him  up  now  than  to  puffer  the  pangs  by  and  by  of 
knowing  that  you  have  ruined  his  life.  Think  of  that. 
With  a  wife  suited  to  him  by  wealth  as  well  as  by  birth 
and  education,  what  is  there  that  he  cannot  accomplish  ? 
What  is  there  that  he  will  not  accomplish?  He  is  gifted, 
and  he  is  ambitious,  and  he  may  take  a  foremost  place  in 
the  affairs  of  his  country  if  the  chance  be  open  to  him, 
but  bind  him  to  inaction  by  an  injudicious  marriage,  and 
all  the  avenues  to  his  ambition  will  be  closed,  and  instead 
of  happiness  there  will  be  nothing  for  him  but  misery  and 
discontent." 

"But  I  should  help  him,  encourage  him,"  pleaded 
Violet.  " 

" Would  it  help  him  to  impoverish  him?  Would  it  help 
him  to  shut  him  away  from  the  friends  who  would  help 
him?  Would  it  help  him  to  make  a  soured,  discontented 
man  of  him  ?" 

Violet  clasped  her  hands  and  looked  piteously  at  her 
tormentor,  but  she  did  not  speak,  and  he  went  on. 


PUT  TO  THE  TEST.  65 

v  Are  you  seeking  his  happiness  or  your  own?" 

"His, 'his  !"  she  murmured,  fervently. 

"Or  is  it  true  ?"  he  went  on,  as  if  she  had  not  answered 
him,  "that  you  are  marrying  him  for  his  station  and  the 
wealth  you  hope  will  be  his?" 

"No  one  could  believe  that,"  she  said,  looking  at  him 
with  strained  eyes. 

"  No  one  !"  he  repeated.  u  Every  one  will  believe  it,  and 
in  time  he  will  come  to  believe  it.  He  will  look  back 
upon  what  he  might  have  been  and  done  but  for  you,  and 
he  will  come  to  think  that  you  cared  only  for  your  worldly 
advantage  in  marrying  him." 

uGuy  would  never  think  that,"  she  said,  with  a  melan- 
choly smile. 

"  You  do  not  know  what  a  man  will  think  when  he  sees 
the  bright  hopes  of  his  young  manhood  wrecked  on  a 
woman's  selfish  ambition.  Remember  you  bring  him 
nothing  but  beauty,  which  will  soon  wither  under  the 
misery  of  your  life,  and  you  make  him  forfeit  his  mother's 
favor,  perhaps  her  life,  the  means  of  living  as  he  always 
has  lived,  and  the  opportunity  of  gratifying  the  ambition 
which  a  man  of  his  abilities  must  have." 

He  spoke  with  an  earnestness  which  was  genuine 
enough,  for  it  was  inspired  by  the  fear  that  Guy  would 
come  in  at  any  moment,  but  she  could  not  sound  the 
depths  of  his  cruel  nature  and  know  that,  and  she  was 
deeply  affected. 

"  If  I  thought  that "  she  said,  in  a  strained  voice. 

"  My  poor  child  !"  he  said,  with  a  kindness  that  was  not 
at  all  affected,  "it  gives  me  pain  to  have  to  tell  you  these 
things,  but  it  is  for  your  good,  too,  though  I  will  frankly 
confess  that  until  I  saw  you  I  thought  only  of  Guy.  I 
believed,  as  his  mother  believes,  as  every  one  will  believe, 
that  you  have  entrapped  him  into  this  thing.  And,  oh, 
think  of  the  day  when  he,  too,  will  think  so  ?" 

"  He  never  will,  he  never  will !"  sobbed  Violet. 

"Then, "said  Lord  Coldenham,  sternly,  "you  will  not 
give  him  up?  You  will  persist  in  killing  his  mother,  in 
ruining  his  life — all — that  you  may  gratify  a  miserable 
ambition  to  be  Lady  Darlington.  Come,  then  !  Lady  Dar- 
lington was  right.  I  had  thought  when  I  saw  you  that 
you  would  be  one  to  think  of  his  happiness  before  your 
own.  I  see  I  was  mistaken.  Let  me  appeal  to  that 
selfishness.  Give  him  up,  and  Lady  Darlington  will  give 
you  five  thousand  pounds.  Surely  that  will  be  compen- 
sation enough." 


66  PUT  TO  THE  TEST. 

Violet's  eyes  flashed  through  her  tears,  and  she  waved  ' 
her  hand,  but  she  could   not  speak.     He  affected   not   to 
understand  her  indignant  gesture. 

"Then  take  ten  thousand  pounds,"  he  said.  "With  that 
you  could  perhaps  do  even  better." 

k*Oh,  Guy,"  she  moaned,  "why  do  you  not  come !" 

He  almost  stamped  his  foot  in  his  angry  impatience, 
and  yet  he  could  see  that  he  was  gaining  his  point.  Oh, 
how  he  hoped  that  Guy  would  only  be  detained  until  he 
had  persuaded  her  to  leave. 

"  And  this  is  your  love !"  he  said,  contemptuously. 
"  You  are  bartering  his  happiness  against  a  larger  sum 
than  I  have  offered  you.  What,  then,  is  your  price?" 

"Oh,  Heaven  guide  me !"  wailed  Violet,  as  if  uncon- 
scious of  the  other's  presence.  "  What'  shall  I  do  ?" 

"Come,"  he  said,  harshly,  " name x  your  price.  Oh, 
that  Guy  could  hear  you  bargaining  thus  !" 

"Forbear  your  insults,"  she  said  to  him,  with  a  sudden 
calmness.  "I  do  »not  know  whether  you  are  rigM  or 
wrong,  but  I  remember  that  Guy  said  he  would  give  me 
up  for  my  happiness,  and  I  can  do  as  much  for  him." 

Then  her  calmness  gave  out,  and  she  broke  down,  and 
burying  her  face  in  her  hands  sobbed  piteously,  as  a  child 
might  have  done  ;  but  the  woman  in  her  nature  was  de- 
veloping in  the  agony  and  misery  of  the  trial,  and 
presently  she  checked  her  sobs,  and  with  a  sad,  pitiful 
composure  said  : 

"I  do  not  know  why  Guy's  mother  should  hate  me  so, 
but  I  will  do  as  she  would  have  me,  for  Guy's  sake. 
Whnt  is  her  wish?" 

"  She  does  not  hate  you,  and  I  pity  you  from — 

"Spare  me  your  pity,"  she  interrupted,  with  a  certain 
sad  scorn  that  echoed  in  his  heart  through  many  a  re- 
morseful day.  "The  victim  does  not  look  to  the  execu- 
tioner for  anything  but  the  mercy  of  haste.  Tell  MIC  what 
I  must  do,  and  let  me  go  before  Guy  shall  come  and  melt 
my  resolution  in  the  glow  of  his  generous  love.  Oh,  Guy, 
my  darling  Guy  !  will  you  ever  know  the  love  that  m, 
me  do  this  thing?" 

It  seemed   even   to  Lord   Coldenham  that  he  no  lmiir"r 
saw  the  child  of  the  minute  ago  ;  but  he  had  no  time   to 
waste    in   such   a   thought,  and    with    a    quickness    t 
showed  he  had  prearranged  his  plans  he  answered  : 

u  Without  a  final  word  from  you   Guy  will   not  be; 
that  you  have  left  him." 


PUT  TO  THE  TMT. 

1  am  glad,"  she  said,  sadly,  "that  you   are  willing   fccf 
admit  that  much.     What  shall  I  do?" 

"  Write  him  a  note,  leaving  it  here  for  him." 

"  What  shall  I  say  ?" 

She  spoke  calmly,  but  any  one  must  have  seen  what  she 
was  suffering.  Her  soul  was  on  the  rack. 

"You  must  say  something  that  will  turn  him  from  } 
you,"  he  replied,  with  a  furtive  look  at  her.  "Say  that  \, 
you  have  learned  that  he  will  forfeit  his  mother's  wealth,.  • 
and  that  without  that  you  cannot  marry  him." 

"No!"  she  cried,  indignantly.  "That  would  be  in- 
famous !" 

"It  would  prove  you  to  be  in  earnest,"  was  the  answer. 

"Oh,  Heaven  !"  cried  the  tortured  creature,  "is  there  no 
way  to  his  happiness  but  through  my  agony?  Must  I  lose 
him  and  the  only  thing  else  in  the  world  that  I  care  for — 
his  love  ?" 

"If  you  seek  his  happiness  you  will  not  quarrel  with 
the  means  to  it." 

"Oh,"  she  cried  out,  as  if  it  had  been  forced  from  her 
torn  heart,  "have  you  no  pity?  I  will  not  write  the  in- 
famous lie  !  Write  it  if  you  will,  and  I  will  put  my  name 
to  it,  and  I  pray  Heaven  it  will  not  wreck  his  life.  I  can- 
not see  my  way — it  is  all  darkness  to  me,"  and  she  covered 
her  face  with  her  little  hands. 

Lord  Coldenham  waited  for  no  further  permission,  but 
sat  down  at  a  table  on  which  were  pen,  ink,  and  paper,  * 
and  began  writing ;  but  his  pen  had  hardly  touched  the 
paper  when  he  heard  a  noise  at  the  street  door.  He 
looked  quickly  up,  and  saw  Violet  listening  with  an  eager 
expression  on  her  face. 

"That  may  be  Guy,"  he  said,  quickly. 

"  It  is  Guy  !"  she  said,  with  a  ring  of  joy  in  her  voice. 

"Remember  your  promise,"  he  said.  "Here!  I  have 
not  had  time  to  write.  Sign  your  name  at  the  bottom  of 
this  sheet  and  I  will  fill  in  the  letter." 

She  hesitated,  and  there  was  a  wild  look  of  hope  in  her 
eyes. 

^Think  of  Guy  and  his  happiness  !  Forget  yourself  !n 
he  said,  desperately.  "Sign  this  quickly,  and  when  he 
comes  be  true  to  your  promise  !" 

He  had  hardly  hoped  to  effect  anything  by  his  appeal, 
but  a  sudden  look  of  despair  chased  every  other  expres- 
sion from  the  beautiful  face,  and  she  sat  in  the  chair  he 
had  vacated  and  signed  her  name,  breathing  a  prayer  at 


68  DEALING  THK 

the  same  moment,  as  he  could  see  by  the  convulsive 
movement  of  her  pale  lips. 

She  stood  up  as  she  threw  the  pen  down,  and  he  could 
see  her  looking  at  the  door  with  such  an  expression  of 
Titter  woe  as  the  condemned  soul  might  wear  at  the  judg- 
ment seat. 

"You  will  be  brave,"  he  said  to  her. 

"You  must  help  me,"  she  said. 

u  He  will  not  believe  me  ;  you  must  tell  him  that  you 
will  not  marry  him.  Think  of  him  !  think  of  his  mother  !" 

u  No,  I  cannot  meet  him — I  will  go  away.  You  must 
deal  this  blow.  Oh,  I  love  him — love  him,  and  I  cannot 
give  him  up  !  Let  me  go  away." 

She  took  a  step  toward  the  door,  but  recoiled  as  she 
heard  a  buoyant  step  on  the  stairs.  She  staggered  back 
a  pace,  and  murmured  : 

"  He  is  coming  with  love  and  happiness  in  his  heart, 
and  I  must  stab  him.  Oh,  Heaven  !  what  have  I  done 
that  this  must  fall  to  me  ?" 

Lord  Coldenham  was  pale,  but  his  lips  were  set.  He 
had  hoped  to  accomplish  his  mission  before  the  coming  of 
Guy.  He  hrd  no  wish  to  meet  the  young  man,  but  with 
so  much  at  stake  he  could  not  shirk  the  encounter. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

DEALING  THE  BLOW. 

No  one  had  told  Guy  that  anybody  was  with  Vioiet,  and 
he  had  run  up  the  stairs  with  bright  anticipations  of  the 
sweet  face  that  would  meet  his  longing  eyes  as  he  entered 
the  little  parlor  in  which  he  had  said  good -night  to  her. 

Lord  Coldenham  stood  in  the  shadow  of  the  room,  and 
Guy  did  not  see  him  at  the  first,  but  only  Violet,  who 
stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room. 

"  My  sweet  one  !"  he  cried,  springing  toward  her,  "  have 
I  seemed  long  ?  I  could  not  make  those  prosaic  folks  un- 
derstand how  important  it  was  that  you  and  I  should  have 

a  license What  ?    Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon  !"  and,  with 

his  arm  already  around  the  shrinking  form  of  Violet,  he 
followed  the  direction  of  her  glance.  "  Lord  Coldenham  !" 
he  exclaimed. 

Tt  needed  no  power  of  divination  to  tell  him  that  the 
visit  of  the  nobleman  boded  no  good  to  him,  and  he  turned 
with  a  quick,  questioning  glance  to  Violet,  and  then  he 


DEALING  THE  BLOW.  69 

realized  that  her  shrinking  was  not  due  to  the  natural 
shyness  of  a  maiden  in  the  presence  of  a  stranger,  but 
was  the  result  of  another  and  deeper  emotion.  He  looked 
into  her  eyes,  and  before  they  fell  before  his  he  saw  in 
them  an  agony  that  caused  him  to  turn  almost  with 
fierceness  to  the  marquis,  saying,  peremptorily  : 

uLord  Coldenham,  what  is  your  errand  here?" 

It  has  been  said  that  the  man  of  the  world  held  Guy  in 
no  littTe  contempt  for  what  he  was  pleased  to  call  his 
weakness — meaning  his  lack  of  vices ;  but  at  this  moment 
he  saw  something  in  the  eyes  of  the  younger  man  that 
sent  an  uncomfortable  thrill  through  him,  and  made  him 
realize  that  his  task  was  even  more  unpleasant  than  he 
had  anticipated. 

"I  am  here  to  do  you  a  friendly  office,  Guy,"  he 
answered. 

"I  thank  you  most  heartily,  my  lord,"  said  Guy,  coldly, 
"for  your  kindness.  Pray  tell  me  what  your  errand  is." 

u  Certainly,  Guy  ;  but  it  were  better  if  we  were  alone. 
If  the  young  lady  would  retire " 

Violet  made  a  feebly  frantic  effort  to  free  herself  from 
the  encircling  arm  of  her  lover,  but  with  an  instinctive 
feeling  of  something  being  wrong  he  refused  to  release 
her,  saying : 

"  It  is  unnecessary,  quite  unnecessarv.  Remain  with 
me,  Violet." 

"Let  me  go,  Guy,  let  me  go,"  she  panted,  thinking  that 
if  she  could  but  get  away  from  him,  and  out  of  the  imme- 
diate influence  of  his  loved  presence,  she  would  fly  where 
he  could  not  reach  her,  where  she  could  not  witness  the 
agony  she  knew  he  would  suffer. 

"  No,  my  darling,  you  must  not  go.  Lord  Coldenham,  I 
have  but  little  time  to  listen  to  you,  and  you  had  better 
speak  quickljkor  postpone  what  you  have  to  say  until  I 
have  made  this  lady  my  wife." 

"The  lady  will  never  be  your  wife,  Guy,"  said  Lord 
Coldenham. 

Violet  had  now  free(*  herself  from  Guy's  restraining 
arm.  She  had  not  left  the  room,  however,  for  he  stood 
between  her  and  the  door.  She  had  caught  the  back  of  a 
chair,  and  was  supporting  herself  by  it,  or  her  strength 
would  have  been  insufficient  to  sustain  her  weight.  At 
Lord  Coklenham's  ominous  words  Guy  flashed  a  glance  at 
Violet,  and  another  at  Lord  Coldenham.  He  did  not  ask 
the  meaning  of  the  words 

"  What  have  you  been  saying  to  her,  Lord  Coldenham  ? 


70  DEALING  THE  BLOW. 

Remember  you  arc  answering  to  the  man  who  by  his  posi 
tion  has  the  right  of  a  husband  to  demand  an  explana- 
tion." 

"  I  have  told  her,  Guy,  what  you  should  have  told  her 
before  you  enticed  her  away  from  her  home." 

Violet's  eyes  were  fastened  hungrily  on  his  face,  study- 
ing with  passionate  love  every  phase  of  his  emotion  ;  but 
when  he  turned  to  her  with  a  reassuring  smile  her  eyes 
fell  hopelessly,  and  he  turned  haughtily  to  the  marquis. 

"You  have  taken  an  unwarrantable  liberty,  my  lord,  in 
telling  anything  to  my  future  wife  without  my  permission, 
and  I  find  it  the  more  difficult  to  excuse  you,  that  I  can 
see  plainly  that  you  have  caused  her  distress.  Let  us 
understand  each  other.  You  come,  no  doubt,  on  the  part 
of  my  mother — if  you  came  on  your  own  behalf  I  should 
throw  you,  despite  your  years,  out  of  the  window — and 
you  have,  unfortunately,  had  opportunity  to  make  this 
lady  unhappy,  but  there  is  no  need  of  any  further  words, 
and  I  will  tell  you  frankly  that  I  shall  be  obliged  to  you 
if  you  will  leave  us.  Violet,  my  darling,  forget  whatever 
he  may  have  said  to  you." 

Lord  Coldeiiham  was  quick  enough  to  see  that  he  had 
made  a  mistake  in  his  escimate  of  Guy,  and  he  wished 
most  heartily  that  he  had  finished  the  affair  before  the 
young  man's  return;  but .  he  still  depended  on  the  girl, 
who  had  not  yet  said  a  word  to  indicate  her  own  position. 

"  It  hardly  becomes  you,"  he  said,  with  a  very  good  as- 
sumption of  dignity,  "to  threaten  a  man  of  my  years  ;  but 
I  can  forgive  that  to  your  passion.  I  must  refuse  to  leave 
here,  however,  until  you  have  heard  what  the  young  lady 
has  to  say." 

"Oh,  110,  no  !  I  cannot  do  it !"  rather  gasped  than  said 
Violet. 

Guy  turned  to  her  with  an  infinite  tenderness,  and 
despite  her  efforts  to  prevent  him  put  his  arm  around  her 
arid  drew  her  to  him. 

"You  are  disturbed,  my  darling,"  he  said,  in  a  low, 
caressing  -voice.  "  This  shall  never  happen  again."  Then 
to  Lord  Coldenham,  "The  best  answer  to  your  strange 
demand  will  be  the  departing  from  here  of  this  young 
lady  with  me.  Come,  Violet.  I  see  your  bonnet  and 
cloak  are  here  ;  put  them  on,  and  we  will  leave  this  gen- 
tleman, since  he  will  not  leave  us."  Then  Violet  made 
a  supreme  effort  to  command  herself,  and  do'  the  thing 
which  was  worse  than  death  to  her.  She  pushed  IP 


DEALING  THE  BLOW.  71 

away  from  Guy,  and  with  bosom   heaving  painfully  said, 

in  a  low,  shuddering  tone: 

"Ho  is  right,  Guy  ;  I  cannot  be  your  wife." 

"Cannot !"  and  Guy  glanced  with  a  short,  angry  laugh 

at   Lord   Coldenham.     "Do   you   think,  my  darling,  that 

there  is  any  power  on  earth  to  prevent  you  from  being  my 

How  handsome,  and  noble,  and  loving  he  looked  to  her 
at  that  moment,  and  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  she  could  not 
the  words  that  would  make  him  hate  and  despise  her. 
She  lifted  her  eyes  appealingly  to  Lord  Coldenham,  who 
stood  watching  her  with  an  anxiety  he  would  not  have; 
betrayed  for  the  world.  He  answered  her  glance  with  a 
cold  frown. 

"I  cannot  be  your  wife,  Guy,"  was  all  she  could  say. 

Guy  looked  at  her  as  she  shrank  before  him,  and  a 
great  pity  for  her  welled  from  his  heart,  for  he  knew  she 
must  have  been  sorely  tried.  And  his  anger  toward  Lord 
Coldenham  was  fierce  and  hot. 

"  What  vile  thing  have  you  done  to  this  angel,  whose 
innocence  and  purity  might  have  appealed  to  the  arch- 
fiend himself?  What  have  you  said  to  her?  What  lies 
have  you  told?  What  base  thing  have  you  been  guilty  of? 
I  will  not  ask  her  to  tell  me,  but  you  ;  and,  by  Heaven  \ 
if  you  do  not  tell  me  I  will  tear  it  from  you,  though  your 
age  were  double,  for  falsehood  and  treachery  are  even 
viler  in  old  age  than  in  youth,'1  and  Guy's  eyes  blazed 
dangerously  as  he  took  a  step  toward  the  older  man. 

But  wicked  though  he  was  Lord  Coldenham  was  no 
coward,  and  Guy's  attitude  gave  him  the  spirit  to  answer 
boldly : 

"I  told  her  the  truth,  and    only  the  truth  ;  and    if   you 
have  needjbo  ask  me,  instead  of  obtaining  the  inform  «• 
from  her,  it  is  only  because  your  violence   fright*' 
I  will  tell  you,  not  because  you  threaten  me  like  a  willful 
boy,  but  because  you  have  rendered  that  poor  girl 
bio  of  telling  you.     I  said  that   your   mother  would  disin- 
herit you  if  you  married  her." 

Guy  turned  from  him  with  a  gesture  of  contempt  that 
seemed  to  say  that  he  understood  and  fathomed  the  small- 
ness  of  his  character. 

"My  darling,  will  you  not  put  on  your  cloak  and  bonnet 
and  go  with  mo?  It  is  easier  for  your  husband  to  protect 
you  from  insult." 

"But  it  is  true,"  she  moaned;  "what  he   says  is  true. 


72  DEALING  THE  SLOW. 

That  is  what  he  told  me,  and — I  cannot — cannot  marry 
you." 

He  smiled  pitifully  and  incredulously. 

"You  are  unnerved,  my  darling." 

"No,  no,"  she  said,  wildly.  "You  must  believe  me— 
you  must.  I  cannot — will  not  marry  you." 

A  look  of  perplexity  crossed  Guy's  face  as  he  looked  at 
Violet.  Her  agony  was  so  great  that  he  could  not  mistake 
it ;  but  there  was  a  settled  despair  in  her  refusal  to  marry 
him  that  sent  a  chill  to  his  heart. 

"Do  you  realize  what  you  are  saying,  Violet?"  he 
asked,  in  a  low,  beseeching  tone. 

"I  know — I  know,"  she  answered,  looking  wildly  about 
her,  as  if  seeking  some  mode  of  escape.  "  I  said  I  would 
not  marry  you.  I  mean  it,  Guy.  Let  me  go — do  riot 
speak  to  me  again.  I — I  am  not — not  worthy.  I — oh, 
tell  him,  tell  him,  for  I  cannot." 

"Yes,  I  will  speak  for  you,"  began  Lord  'Coldenham, 
but  Guy  interrupted  him  in  a  hoarse,  menacing  tone. 

"  As  there  is  a  heaven  above  us,  Lord  Coldenham,  if 
you  interfere  by  so  much  as  a  word  between  her  and  me 
I  will  do  you  a  mortal  injury.  Violet,  tell  me  what  this 
means.  It  is  so  few  hours  ago  that  I  left  you  and  you 
clung  to  me,  saying  you  loved  me,  and  now  you  say — 
what  do  you  say  ?" 

She  shrank  before  his  burning  eyes,  and  her  soul  burst 
forth  in  a  wail : 

"  He  will  hate  me,  he  will  hate  me  !" 

Then  his  love  burst  forth,  and  he  caught  her  in  hia 
arms,  crying : 

"  My  darling,  my  darling  !  will  you  let  anything  come 
between  us  ?  Have  we  left  father  and  mother  for  love  of 
each  other,  to  be  parted  now?  No,  no,  my  darling,  no." 

Ikwas  so  good  to  be  there,  after  the  agony  and  woe  that 
had  possessed  her  soul,  that  for  a  moment  she  let  her 
head  rest  peacefully  on  his  breast,  and  he  felt  that  he  had 
regained  her;  but  of  a  sudden  her  promise  came  to  her, 
and  with  a  sobbing  moan  she  broke  away  from  him,  and 
let  the  unhappy  lie  find  its  way  to  her  unwilling  lips. 

"  No,  no,  Guy.  I  thought  you  would  be  rich — I  did  not 
know  that  your  mother  would  disinherit  you,  I — I  can- 
not marry  you  if  you  are  poor." 

Guy  stared  at  her  as  if  he  had  gone  mad. 

"  It  is  a  lie — a  lie  !"  he  saul,  hoarsely.  "  I  do  not  believe 
it.  My  Violet  care  for  money  !  Oh,  Heaven,  she  is  mad  ! 
And  you" — he  turned  to  Lord  Coldenham  with  such  an 


MARTIN  JENKINS  FORGETS  JUS  CLOTH.  73 

expression  distorting  his  face  that  the  nobleman  felt  him- 
self in  danger — "you  have  done  it.  Violet,  my  darling, 
come  here — here  to  1113'  arms,  and  forget  all  that  has  been 
said  to  you." 

Then  Violet  looked  at  him  with  a  terrible  agony  in  her 
2  yes. 

"I  am  not  mad,  Guy.  I  know  what  I  am  saying.  I 
will  not  marry  you  since  you  are  poor.  It  is  money,  as 
well  us  station,  that  I  want." 

"You  are  not  mad,  and  you  say  this?"  and  he  passed 
his  hand  over  his  eyes,  as  it'  he  hoped  thereby  to  remove 
the  vail  that  hung  between  him  and  the  Violet  he  had  left 
a  few  hours  ago.  "Then  I  must  be  mad.  You  want  my 
money — money  !  If  the  angels  had  told  me  this  I  would 
have  said  they  lied  !  And  your  own  lips  say  it — your 
own  lips.  Violet — Violet !  Is  it  true  ?" 

"  It  is  true.     Now  let  me  go." 

"No,  I  will  go,"  and  he  went  reeling  from  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

MARTIN  JENKINS  FORGETS  HIS  CLOTH. 

No  one  can  tell  how  ill  news  travels,  but  certain  it  is 
that  it  travels  so  fast  that  good  news  seldom  overtakes  it — 
if  there  should  be  any  to  go  after  it.  It  would  have  been 
impossible  to  say  who  first  told  the  story  of  Violet's  elope- 
ment with  Lord  Darlington,  and  perhaps  it  would  have 
been  equally  difficult  to  say  what  the  story  originally  was, 
for,  by  the  time  it  had  gone  through  the  hamlet,  it  had 
taken  on  a  dozen  different  guises. 

A  few  affected  to  believe  that  Violet  had  gone  to  her 
ruin,  but  the  faith  of  most  of  them  was  so  great  in  Violet 
that  it  was  the  common  expectation  that  she  would  be 
with  them  presently  as  Lady  Darlington,  and  the  sick 
and  needy  looked  forward  to  that  event  a  sort  of  mil- 
lennium. 

The  news  spread  all  through  the  neighborhood,  too,  and 
many  a  young  farmer  and  yeoman  who  had  looked  at 
Violet  with  eyes  of  love  and  longing,  passed  a  heart-sick 
day  in  consequence.  But  it  is  to  the  credit  of  human 
nature  that  for  the  most  part  they  wished  her  all  the  hap- 
piness in  life,  and  those  who  knew  Guy  as  well  had  no 
hesitation  in  saying  she  had  found  a  mote  as  near  to  being 
worthy  of  her  as  could  be. 


74  MARTIN  JSNKIXS  FORGETS  HIS  CLOTH. 

Here  and  there  was  one  who,  in  his  disappointment  at 
being  robbed  of  the  hope  of  ever  obtaining  the  sweet 
flower  of  Penarth,  vented  his  ill-temper  in  saying  the 
most  spiteful  things  of  the  two  runaway  lovers. 

Only  Martin  Jenkins,  the  good  curate  who  had  wor- 
shiped at  Violet's  shrine,  did  not  give  a  thought  to  the 
elopement.  He  thought  of  Violet,  for  that  was  in  the 
very  nature  of  things  with  him — he  was  always  thinking 
of  her.  Not  with  any  hope  that  she  might  one  day  be  his, 
but  because  he  felt  that  to  have  loved  her  was  a  happi- 
ness quite  equal  to  his  poor  deserts.  He  did  not  think  of 
the  elopement  for  the  reason  that  he  had  work  to  do  that 
had  kept  him  isolated  indoors  all  the  morning,  and  he 
had  not  heard  it  spoken  of. 

It  was  not  until  the  afternoon  that  the  news  came  to 
him,  and  then  it  came  in  a  way  that  marked  an  epoch  in 
the  life  of  the  simple  curate.  A  simple  soul  Martin  Jen- 
kins verily  was ;  simple,  with  a  meekness,  an  honesty, 
and  a  loving  kindness  that  made  him  loved  by  the  very 
folk  who  believed  they  looked  down  oh  him  for  his  sim- 
plicity. 

There  had  been  a  little  change  in  him  recently.  The 
coming  into  five  thousand  pounds  had  had  something  to 
do  with  it ;  but  he  knew  that  loving  Violet  Lisle  had  had 
more.  The  love  had  given  him  a  litle  more  of  the  respect 
for  himself  which  he  had  lacked,  and  which  he  had 
needed,  and  the  five  thousand  pounds  had  given  him  a 
little  touch  of  independence,  which  folks  had  felt  rather 
than  noticed.  The  rector,  particularly,  found  it  less  easy 
to  browbeat  Martin  than  he  had  done.  And  yet  no  one 
knew  of  the  legacy,  for  Martin,  with  a  praiseworthy  mod- 
esty, had  been  disinclined  to  speak  of  it  to  any  one  lest  he 
should  be  thought  guilty  of  worldly  pride. 

Happiness  the  money  certainly  had  given  him,  for  it 
enabled  him  to  give  his  old  mother  a  home,  such  as  the 
meager  savings  out  of  his  scanty  pay  had  never  enabled 
him  to  do.  He  had  at  his  first  coming  to  Penarth  wished 
to  have  his  mother  with  him,  but  the  rector  had  very 
promptly  told  him  that  he  didn't  want  any  old  woman  to 
make  mischief  in  the  parish,  and  though  Martin's  meek 
soul  had  boiled  with  wrath  at  such  a  suggestion  he  had 
said  nothing,  and  had  nearly  starved  himself  in  order  to 
save  enough  to  keep  his  dear  old  mother  comfortable. 
And  now  lie  had  ha,d  a  tiny  cottage  near  London  fitted  up 
for  her,  quite  unknown  to  her,  and  he  was  going  down  to 
see  her  and  take  her  to  her  new  home.  It  was  in  order  to 


MAHT1A'  ,11.  //y,S'  CL'tTH. 

get  ahead  of  his  work  that  ho  had  spent   all    the   morning 
indoors  that  day. 

In  the  afternoon  lie  buttoned  his  thin  coat  about  him 
and  haste  lied  out  to  make  some  of  the  visits  that  could  not 
I,  and  to  notify  those  who  looked  for  his  daily 
visit  that  it  would  be  lacking  for  a  day  or  two.  He 
noticed  at  the  blacksmith's  a  knot  of  the  young  farmers 
•lie  neighborhood,  and  wondered  why  they  were  con- 
gregated there  ;  but  it  was  not  until  his  visiting  carried 
him  toward  them  that  lie  discovered  why,  for  he  had  been 
so  hurried  in  his  talk  with  the  cottage  peo;  le  that  none  of 
them  had  had  any  opportunity  to  discuss  the  latest  sensa- 
tion with  him. 

He  nodded  to  the  young  men  when  he  saw  that  they  had 
noticed  him,  and  would  have  gone  his  way,  but  one  of 
them  halted  him. 

"  Hello,  parson  !  what  do  you  think  of  the  news  ?" 

"  What  news  ?" 

"The  news,  man.  Is  there  more  than  one  thing  to  tell, 
I'd  like  to  know  ?" 

"You'll  have  to  tell  me  the  news,"  said  Martin,  with  his 
pleasant  smile, 

"  Tell  it  to  you  ?  Where  have  you  been  all  the  day  not 
to  hear  it?  You'll  never  tell  us  you  haven't  heard  about 
Violet  Lisle?1' 

Martin  paled  at  the  thought  of  possible  evil  to  Violet. 

"I  have  heard  nothing.     What  about  her?" 

"Run  away  with  Lord  Darlington." 

Martin  paled  with  generous  anger  this  time. 

"A  sorr3T  joke,  young  men,"  he  said,  with  a  new  dig- 
nity for  him,  and  turned  to  go  away. 

"No  joke  at  all,  parson,"  said  one  of  them,  earnestly, 
"but  the  truth,  as  all  the  countryside  knows  by  now. 
She  went  away  with  him  last  night." 

Martin  looked  at  them  one  by  one  with  a  growing  fear 
in  his  heart.  He  said  nothing,  however,  and  one  of  them 
went  on ; 

"Some  say  she'll  be  back  as  Lady  Darlington;  some 
say  not." 

Then  Martin  Jenkins  spoke  quickly. 

"No  one  who  knows  Miss  Lisle  will  doubt  her,  and 
shame  be  to  the  man  who  will  give  voice  to  a  suspicion 
against  her." 

John  Broad,  the  brawny  young  farmer  who  had  spoken, 
flushed  deep  at  this  rebuke,  and  was  the  more  angry  that 
he  saw  that  the  others  were  very  much  of  Martin's  way 


76  MARTI M  JEMilM   FORGETS  HIS  CLOTH. 

of  thinking,  though  his  brawn  and  muscle  had  kept  them 
from  open  remonstrance. 

"  It's  well  known,  parson,"  said  he,  with  angry  sarcasm, 
"  that  you  would  speak  the  devil  well,  let  alone  a  young 
woman  who  has  jilted  you." 

A  little  laugh  went  around  at  this,  but  Martin  gave  it 
no  thought.  His  mind  was  full  of  Violet. 

"  It  is  an  ungenerous  act,  John  Broad,  to  twit  a  man 
with  such  a  thing,"  he  said,  warmly  ;  "but  I  do  not  blush 
to  own  that  I  have  offered  myself,  all  unworthy  of  her,  to 
Miss  Lisle.  It  will  always  be  a  happiness  to  me  that  it 
has  fallen  to  me  to  love  her.  Any  man  who  truly  loved 
her  would  be  the  better  for  it.  I  have  never  talked  with 
Lord  Darlington,  but  I  do  not  doubt  that  he  is  as  good  as 
the  least  of  us,  and  I  have  faith  to  believe  that  he,  no 
more  than  one  of  us,  would  try  to  wrong  Miss  Lisle.  Suc- 
ceed in  wronging  her  he  could  not,  and  I  will  take  that 
stand  before  the  whole  world,  in  the  face  of  all  that  may 
be  said." 

"Parson's  right,"  said  one. 

"That  he  is,"  said  another,  and  those  who  did  not  speak 
nodded  their  heads  encouragingly. 

John  Broad  spread  his  legs,  tapped  his  boot  with  his 
whip-stock,  and  exclaimed,  with  a  sneer : 

"You  do  well  to  take  the  part  of  the  half-starved  whip- 
pe.r  snapper  because  he's  bayed  at  the  same  moon  with 
you.  For  myself  I  am  not  afraid  to  say  and  maintain 
that  Violet  Lisle  is  no  better  than  any  other  girl,  and  it  is 
more  than  likely  she's  gone  to  town  with  Lord  Darling- 
ton, preferring  to  be  the  mistress  of  a  nobleman  rather 
than  the  honest  wife  of  a  common  yeoman." 

The  other  young  men  stood  silent,  chiefly  perhaps  from 
not  having  words  ready,  but  Martin  spoke  up  quickly  : 

"  Shame  on  you,  John  Broad  !  It  is  a  coward's  act  to 
defame  a  woman !" 

John  Broad  took  a  step  forward  toward  Martin,  glower- 
ing on  him  in  his  anger. 

"Sniveling  puppy  !"  said  he  ;  "parson  or  no  parson,  I've 
a  mind  to  shake  yon  into  manners.  And  if  it  weren't  for 
your  shabby  cloth  I'd  lay  you  out  in  the  dust." 

"When  I  defend  a  woman,"  said  Martin,  "I  do  it  as  a 
man,  not  as  a  priest,  and  no  man  shall  speak  ill  of  that 
lady  in  my  presence." 

"What'llyou  do  then,  you  whiffet?"  demanded  John, 
contemptuously.  "  I  say  it  again,  and  stand  by  it — Violet 
Lisle  has  found  her  price." 


MARTIN  J EX  KINS  FOUUETS  HIS  CLOTH.  77 

"Say  that  again,"  said  Martin,  " and  I  will  knock  you 
down,  so  Heaven  gives  me  strength." 

"Say  no  more,  John,"  growled  one  of  the  young  men, 
uneasily. 

"Enough  has  been  said  already,  and  more,"  ventured 
another. 

But  John  was  angry — as  angry  with  himself  as  with 
them,  probably — and  would  not  stop  where  he  was. 

"  That  for  her  virtue  !"  said  he,  snapping  his  fingers  in 
the  face  of  Martin,  but  looking  at  the  others  who,  he 
thought,  were  more  likely  to  take  it  up,  for  who  would 
believe  that  meek  Martin  Jenkins,  the  bullied  curate, 
would  ever  carry  out  his  threat. 

But  he  did,  with  a  passionate  anger  such  as  he  had 
never  felt  before  toward  one  of  God's  creatures.  He 
jumped  at  the  brawny  young  farmer  and  struck  him  such 
a  blow  in  the  face  as  laid  him  with  all  his  length  in  the 
dust  of  the  road. 

Then  up  .jumped  big  John  Broad,  and  with  a  roar  such 
as  they  say  the  bull  of  Bashan  was  wont  to  utter,  rushed 
at  brave  Martin  Jenkins,  who  stood  waiting,  knowing 
what  was  likely  to  happen  when  the  great  fist  struck  him, 
but  disdaining  to  flinch  an  inch.  There  was  a  strange 
exultation  in  his  soul  at  the  thought  of  doing  battle  for 
Violet,  and  Heaven  knows  that  he  would  hutve  died  right 
there  if  the  need  had  been  ;  but  it  was  not  to  be.  The 
young  men  who  had  1ft  all  this  happen  without  knowing 
quite  what  to  do  to  stop  it  now  interposed  and  put  them- 
selves between  the  furious  giant  and  the  defender  of 
Violet. 

"  'Tis  enough,  John  Broad,"  said  one,  very  sternly. 
"  You  shall  fight  us  all  first.  It  was  a  shame  that  we 
ever  let  the  parson  take  the  brunt  of  it.  Go  your  ways, 
John  Broad  ;  and  for  myself,  I  wish  to  say  it  that  I  stand 
ready  any  time-  to  take  up  the  quarrel  for  Miss  Lisle." 

"And  what  Oliver  Hawkins  says  I  say,  too,"  said 
another,  and  then  they  all  said  or  showed  that  they  were 
of  the  same  mind. 

"He  has  struck  me  a  blow,"  roared  John,  who  would 
willingly  have  assaulted  the  crowd,  but  for  that  remain- 
ing grain  of  common  sense  that  told  him  it  would  be 
foolish. 

"  "Well,  "said  Oliver  Hawkins,  sturdily  and  uncompro- 
misingly, "it  was  what  one  of  us  should  have  done,  and 
what  I  honor  him  for  more  than  I  ever  thought  to  honor  a 
parson  for  anything.  I  think  there  is  no  man  in  tho 


78  MARTIN  JENKINS  FOEGETS  HIS 


FATHER  A XI)  DAUGHTER.  79 

is   true,    then?      She    is    Lady   Darlington?"   said 

•True  ?     Yes,  it  are,  which  I  don't  mind  admittin',  sir, 
to  you,  that  I  never  knowed  a  word  of   it   till   yesterday, 
fur  the  first  time,  when  Lady  Darlington — the   dowager,  I 
think,  we  will  call  her  henceforward — "  said  Goody,  with 
an  air  of  knowing   aristocratic  ways,  "the  dowager   came 
.  nn'  had  a  talk  with  Mr.  Lisle.     Excuse  me,  Mr.  Jen- 
kins, it'  I  smile,  which  I  can't  no  more  help  when  I  think 
:e  baker  man — he  gave  her  as  good  and    better   every 
.     The   Lisles,  Mr.  Jenkins,  were   gentry   when   the 
Darlingtoiis   was   bakers,. which   Mr.    Lisle   told   her,  not 
mincing  matters  no  more  than  I  would  talkin'  to  you,  sir, 
winch  you  know  ain't  necessary." 

"  I  judge,  then,  that  the  parents  were  unwilling,  and 
that  tho  young  people  took  the  matter  into  their  own 
hamlsJ' 

u  \\aiich  I  couldn't  have  expressed  it  better  myself. 
And  her  father,  sir,  mercy  me  !  IK;  be  that  proud,  says  he 
to  me,  or  words  in  substance  the  same,  'Vi'let's  left  my 
house,  gone  A  ne'tlier  know  nor  care  whither.  You  will 
never  speak  her  name  to  me.  She  ceases  to  be  a  daughter 
of  mine.'  -v  hich  it  was  like  as  if  it  come  out  of  a  book. 
But,  Lor'  bless  you,  sir  !  I  knowed  where  she  were  gone, 
an'  why." 

•'I  could,  wish,"  said  Martin,  slowly,  "that  it  had   hap- 

d   in   a   more  regular  way  ;  but  when  you  hear  from 

I/uly  Darlington— your  mistress,  I  mean — will  you  say  to 

that  no  one  rejoices  in  her  happiness   more  than  I  do. 

;s  happy,  is  she  not,  Mrs.  White?" 

"He  worships  the  ground  she  walks  on,  Mr.  Jenkins.  I 
know  it,  for  I  see  it." 

u  I  am  very  glad.  I  was  sure  she  must  love  him  and  he 
her.  Thank  you,  Mrs,  White  ;  you  have  been  very  kind 

-nfide  in  me." 

"  Which  it  were  confiding,  Mr.  Jenkins,  an'  only  be- 
cnuse  I  know  how  much  she  thought  o'  you." 

"Thank  you  for  telling  me  that.  Thank  you.  Good- 
by.  I  am  going  away  for  a  day  or  two." 

CHAPTER    XV. 

FATHER  AND  DAUGHTER. 

Violefc  walchpd  ('iiy  disappear  through  the  door  with 
Btaring,  strained  eyes,  ard  if  she  could  have  found  her 


60  FATHER  AND  DAUGHTER. 

voice  she  must  surely  have  called  to  him  to  come  back  to 
her,  for  a  sort  of  frenzy  of  defrauded  love  overwhelmed 
her,  and  made  her  clutch  at  her  throat  and  gasp  inarticu- 
lately after  him. 

Then  she  ran,  or  rather  staggered,  to  the  door,  as  if  to 
go  after  him,  but  Lord  Coldenham,  who  had  been  watch- 
ing her,  laid  a  restraining  hand  on  her  arm,  and  said  : 

"  You  have  done  nobly.     Do  not  undo  it  now." 

"Oh,  Heaven!  what  have  I  done ?  what  have  I  done?" 
she  moaned. 

And  then  her  senses  failed  her,  and  she  would  have 
fallen  had  not  Lord  Coldenham  been  there  to  catch  her  in 
his  arms  and  support  her. 

She  had  not  fainted,  but  rather  fallen  in  a  numb  de- 
spair, which,  with  her  exhaustion,  had  made  her  utterly 
nerveless. 

Lord  Coldenham  placed  her  gently  on  the  so^a,  and 
waited  until  he  saw  that  she  had  recovered  somewhat, 
when  he  said  : 

"You  must  not  remain  here.     Come  with  me." 

She  looked  at  him,  and  obeyed  without  a  word.  She 
seemed  to  have  lost  all  wish  to  think  for  herself,  and  he 
was  not  a  little  alarmed  at  her  dreary  apathy.  She 
donned  her  cloak  and  bonnet  at  his  word,  and  followed 
him  down  stairs,  waited  while  he  paid  the  landlady's  bill, 
and  followed  him  into  the  street,  leaning  passively  on  hie 
arm  until  he  could  call  a  cab. 

His  intention  had  been  merely  to  get  her  out  of  the 
hotel,  believing  that  Guy  would  return  after  a  time  to  see 
her  once  more  ;  but  now  that  they  were  out,  and  he  saw 
that  she  continued  in  the  stupor  into  which  she  had  fallen, 
he  was  alarmed  and  embarrassed. 

"Rouse  yourself,  my  dear  young  lady,"  he  said;  "do 
not  give  way  so.  Tell  me  where  I  shall  take  you." 

"  What  does  it  matter  where  I  go  now  ?"  she  answered, 
and  he  feared  that  her  mind  had  been  unhinged  by  her 
agony. 

A  sudden  thought  came  to  him,  and  without  further 
words  he  walked  on  until  he  found  a  cab,  when  he  had 
himself  and  her  driven  to  a  hotel.  There  he  remained 
with  her  until  evening,  when  he  ordered  a  carriage,  and 
was  driven  to  the  station,  where  he  bought  tickets  for 
Penarth,  without  consulting  his  passive  charge,  v,  ho,  dur- 
ing the  whole  day,  had  not  spoken  a  word  without  being 
first  questioned. 

The  world,  indeed,  was  all  a  blank  to  her.    She  had 


FATH/SR  A\D   DAUGHTER.  81 

gone  to  the  limit  of  her  endurance  in  the  interview  with 
Guy,  and  all  she  could  feel  was  the  recurring  agony  of  his 

ok  when  she  told  him  that  it  was  his  money  she  de- 
sired ;  all  she  could  see  was  his  face  when  he  turned  from 
her  and  ran  out  of  her  presence,  which  she  told  herself 
must  have  become  hateful  to  him.  She  followed  Lord 
Coldenham,  careless  of  where  he  should  take  her. 

More  than  once  the  hard  man  of  the  world  had  looked 
at  his  victim  with  a  shuddering  sense  of  having  done  a 
worse  thing  than  murder  in  destroying  the  happiness  of 
such  a  guileless,  innocent  creature,  but  each  time  he  had 
driven  the  feeling  away  with  a  forced  assurance  that  she 
would  get  over  it  in  time.  He  remembered  that  her 
father  had  said  that  he  renounced  her  as  daughter  of  his  ; 
but  he  was  inclined  to  shrug  his  shoulders  at  that  as  a  bit 
of  heroics.  At  any  rate  he  knew  of  nothing  else  to  do 
with  Violet  than  to  return  her  to  her  home,  and  that  was 
what  he  purposed  doing. 

Possibly  Violet  was  conscious  in  a  way  of  where  she 
was  going,  but  it  did  not  impress  itself  on  her  mind,  even 
when  he  led  her  out  of  the  compartment  at  Penarth  sta- 
tion, and  she  stepped  as  apathetically  into  the  carriage 
that  stood  waiting  as  she  had  done  everything  else. 

Lord  Coldenham  gave  the  driver  his  order  in  a  low 
voice  and  then  threw  himself  back  in  the  cushions,  con- 
gratulating himself  that  his  charge  would  soon  be  off  his 
hands.  Violet  sat  listlessly  in  the  carriage,  thinking, 
thinking,  thinking  of  Guy.  "  When  the  carriage  stopped, 
and  she  was  assisted  to  alight,  she  noticed  for  the  first 
time,  with  a  shock  of  sudden  consciousness,  where  she 
was,  and  she  turned  with  a  sort  of  terror  to  Lord  Golden- 
ham. 

u  You  would  not  leave  me  h  ere  ?  I  cannot  go  to  him — 
my  father." 

"  There  is  nowhere  else  to  go,"  said  Lord  Coldenham,  tak- 
ing her  by  the  hand  and  leading  her  almost  forcibly  to  the 
door  of  the  little  cottage,  where  he  knocked  and  waited 
until  the  door  was  opened  by  old  Goody  White,  who  had 
heard  the  carriage  drive  up  and  had  hastened  with 
proudly  beating  heart  to  welcome  the  new  Lady  Darling- 
ton. 

"My  sweet  lamb  !"  she  cried,  taking  her  in  her  arms, 
"you  came  to  old  Good}'  fir^t,  then,  did  you?  You  will 
r,;u-er  go,  Lord  Darlington,"  she  cried  out  to  Lord  Colden- 
ham, who  had  hurried  back  to  the  carriage. 

He  made  no  answer,  but   gave  the  order  to  drive  to  the 


FATHER  AND  DAUGHTER. 

oastle,  and  stepped  into  the  carriage.  Goody  looked  a 
moment  in  amazement,  but  concluded  it  was  by  some  ar- 
rangement with  Violet,  and  turned  to  her  once  more. 

"Oh,  but  he's  angry,"  she  said,  in  a  whisper,  drawing 
Violet  into  the  little  dining-room,  "but  mercy  me  !  he'l] 
forgive  anything  to  you  now.  My  blessed  lamb !  a 
countess  you  be  now,  sure  enough.  Why,  whatever  are 
the  matter,  my  lamb,  my  lady  I  should  say,  now?1' 

"  He  is  gone,  gone !"  moaned  "Violet,  finding  in  the 
familiar  presence  of  old  Goody  the  charm  to  loosen  the 
bonds  in  which  her  soul  had  been  tied. 

•'Gone!  Ay,  but  I'll  be  bound  he'll  be  back  pretty 
quick.  Don't  fret  about  that,  my  lamb,  but  pluck  up 
your  heart  to  see  your  father.  Speak  up  to  him  bold  and 
fr^e,  as  a  countess  should.  You  be  a  Lisle  like  himself, 
an'  no  cause  to  fear  him.  An'  if  he  don't  like  it  so  mud] 
the  worse  for  lie.'" 

UI  am  not  married,  Goody,"  said  Violet,  holding  the 
good  creature  off  from  her  and  staring  into  her  eyes  like 
a  hunted  animal.  "I  have  come  back  just  as  I  went— 
Violet  Lisle.  If  I  had  known,"  she  went  on,  dreamily, 
"  that  he  was  bringing  me  here  I  would  not  have  come, 
but  I  think  I  have  been  dead  since  he  left  me." 

"Not  married  !"  cried  Goody,  shrilly.  "Come  back  as 
you  went !  The  villain,  the  wretch  !" 

"  Hush,  Goody,  you  do  not  know  wrhat  you  are  saying. 
It  is  I  who  am  the  wretch,  I  who  have  ruined  arrd  deso 
lated  his  life.  Oh,  why  did  I  do  it  ?  Was  it  necessary  \ 
Oh,  I  shall  go  mad  !" 

Here  was  something  quite  beyond  the  good  woman's 
ken,  and  she  could  only  try  to  comfort  the  terrible  dis 
tress  of  her  young  mistress  by  incoherent,  soothing  words. 
Suddenly  Violet  stopped  her.  It  seemed  as  if  a  complete 
realization  of  her  position  had  come  to  her  in  an  instant. 
It  left  her  preternaturally  calm  and  cold,  and  in  aftei 
times  she  could  recall  that  she  even  then  wondered  at  her- 
self for  being  calm  when  she  was  near  enough  to  madness 
to  feel  that  she  might  plunge  into  it  the  next  moment. 

"You  say  my  father  is  angry,  Goody  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Terrible  angry.  Not  in  a  fury,  but  like  I  never  see 
him  afore.'* 

"  What  did  he  say  ?" 

"I  wouldn't  worrit  about  that  now,  my  lamb,"  said 
Gi-oody,  dreading  to  tell  what  he  had  said. 

"Tell  me  what  he  said,  Goody.     I  must  know." 

"  1  was  never  to  speak  of  you  again,  and " 


FATHER  AND  DAUGHTER.  83 

"  He   said   I   should  no  longer  be  his  daught  not 

'that  it,  Goody?'1  asked  Violet,  with  an  awful  calmness. 

"Something  like  that,  my  lamb,  but  dorft  you  think  o1 
feat.1' 

"Yes,  I  must   think  of  it.     I   have   sinned   against  my 

father,  Goody,  but  I  arn  punished.    I  shall  not  stay  here," 

ishe  went  on,  wearily,  but  with  the   same  dreadful   calm- 

:  "I  will  go  to  my  father,  and  ask  him  to  forgive  me ; 

but  I  have  no  right  to  stay.'1 

"  Yon  will   not  stay  here  !"  cried   Goody,  wringing  her 
Is.    u  She  doesn't  know  what  she  is  sayin',  poor  lamb  ! 
t   say  a  word   to   your   father   to-night,  my  darling. 
>ur  room,  and  lay  your  tired  head   down  and 
i.     To-morrow's  time  enough  for  that." 
So,  I  will  go  up  to  him  now.     He   is  in  his  library,  is 
he  not?11 

"  Don't  you  go — don't  you  go  I"  pleaded  Goody,  in  a 
paroxysm  of  despair. 

But  Violet  put  her  gently  aside,  and  went  up  the  stairs, 
down  which  less  than  twenty-four  hours  ago  she  had 
-stolen  so  stealthily  to  go  meet  her  lover — the  man  she  had 
told  she  did  not  love— Guy,  to  whom  she  had  said  that  she 

!  only  for  his  money. 

She   knocked  at   the   door  of   the  library,  and  entered 
iwhen  her  father's  harsh  voice   bade   her  enter.     Had   he 
;>ected  who  it  was   that   knocked   that   his  voice   had 
taken  on  such  a  harshness,  that  he  stood  in  black   silence 
'in  the  middle  of  the  room  when  she  entered  and  looked  at 
him  with  such  a  look  of  pleading?" 
"  Father* forgive  me  I'1  she  sobbed. 
"Why  have  you  come  back?"  he  asked. 
"Not  to  ask  you  to  take  me  back,  but  orjly  to  ask  you  to 
forgive  me,"  she  answered,  brokenly. 

"You  might  have  spared  yourself  the  trouble,"  he 
answered,  with  iron  calmness. 

14  You  will  not  refuse  me  that,  father,"  she  pleaded.     "I 

know  now  how  wrong  it  was  to   go  contrary  to  your  will, 

but.   T    will    take   the   consequences — even  though  they  he 

t.h.     That  would  be  welcome.     But  forgive  me,*  forgive 

If  you  knew  what  I  have  suffered,  father." 
"I   am   not  your  father.     It  is  nothing  to  me  what  you 
have  suffered.     You  waste  breath  asking  rne   for   forgive- 

1  ha\'e  nothing  to  do  with  it  or  you." 

lie  looked  so  cold,  hard,  and    unrelenting   thni    as    she 

:illy  in  his  fare  for   one   sign    of    fatherly  lov© 

heart  grew  cold  within  her,  and  she  turned  with  droop- 


84.  TWENTY  THOUSAND  POUNDS. 

ing  head  and  went  toward  the  door.  There  she  paused, 
and  looked  again  to  see  if  there  might  not  have  come  one 
softening  line  into  the  rigid  i'ace. 

"Father,  your  forgiveness  I'1  she  pleaded. 

"You  have  marked  out  your  own  path — follow  it,"  was 
all  he  said,  and  turned  to  some  books  that  lay  on  his  table, 
as  if  every  thought  of  the  fair  creature  he  had  once  called 
daughter  had  been  driven  out  of  his  brain. 

Violet  hushed  a  moan,  and  crept  from  the  room  and 
down  the  stairs. 

Goody  stood  at  the  bottom,  her  old  eyes  running  over 
with  tears. 

"You  shall  not  go  alone,  Miss  Vi 'let,"  she  sobbed.  "Not 
while  old  Goody  lives  shall  you  be  alone  in  the  world. 
Let  me  get  my  things.  He  can  shift  the  best  he  can — the 
monster  !" 

"Hush  !"  said  Violet,  wearily.  "He  is  right.  Stay  with 
him,  Goody.  He  will  need  you  more  than  I  shall.  Stay 
with  him  for  my  sake.  Perhaps  the  time  will  come  when 
he  will  think  kindlier  of  me ;  then  you  will  ask  him  to 
forgive  me.  I  have  done  him  a  great  wrong,  Goody — I  do 
wrong  to  everybody,  it  seems.  I  don't  know  why  I  do, 
but  so  it  is.  It  will  be  better  when  I — when  I  am  dead, 
Goody ;  then  you  must  seek  Guy,  and  tell  him  from  me 
that  I  did  what  I  did  because  I  loved  him  so  well.  Good- 
by,  dear.'1 

She  kissed  the  old  woman  and  fled  out  of  the  house  into 
the  darkness,  Goody  crying  out  after  her  to  come  back. 
But  Violet  Lisle  never  crossed  the  threshold  of  the  cot- 
tage again.  * 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

TWENTY   THOUSAND   POUNDS. 

In  all  his  life  Lord  Coldenham  had  never  had  such  a 
day  as  this  had  been.  He  would  not  have  believed  that 
the  suffering  of  another  could  have  affected  him  so  much 
as  the  dumb  distress  of  Violet  had  done.  If  it  had  not 
been  for  his  own  necessities  he  would  never  have  persisted 
in  his  cruel  course,  but  he  had  carefully  weighed  his  own 
interests  against  Violet's  happiness,  and  there  had  been 
no  chance  for  his  victim. 

With  Violet  constantly  before  him  during  the  day  he 
had  needed  all  his  strength  of  purpose  to  remain  firm,  and 


TWENTY  THOUSAbD  POUNDS.  65 

there  had  been  little  opportunity  for  thought  of  any  sort, 
but  when  he  had  rid  himself  of  her,  and  was  driving  back 
to  the  castle  he  drew  a  breath  of  relief  and  settled  himself 
back  to  calmly  contemplate  the  whole  affair. 

He  went  over  all  that  had  occurred  ;  his  own  action, 
Violet's  self-sacrifice,  and  Guy's  agony  and  anger.  Then 
it  came  to  him  for  the  first  time  in  a  form  that  he  could 
grasp,  that  although  he  had  succeeded  in  alienating  the 
two  lovers  from  each  other  he  had  not  thereby  helped 
himself  at  all,  since  it  was  unlikely  that  Guy  would  ever 
forgive  him  for  his  part  in  the  affair.  He  had  taken  Vio- 
let from  him,  but  he  had  not  put  Sibyl  any  nearer  to  him. 

That  morning  he  would  have  scoffed  at  the  idea  of  what 
he  had  done  making  any  real  or  permanent  difference  to 
Guy,  for  then  his  opinion  of  him  had  been  that  he  was  too 
weak,  too  ductile  in  the  hands  of  his  mother  for  anything 
-to  make  a  lasting  difference  with  him  ;  but  now  as  he 
looked  back  the  impression  on  his  mind  made  by  Guy's 
conduct  of  the  morning  was  that  Guy  was  a  strong,  pur- 
poseful man,  who  would  be  led  by  none. 

Was  this  to  mean,  then,  that  he  had  wrought  his  cruel 
work  for  naught  ?  Was  nothing  to  corrie  of  it  all  but  the 
misery  of  the  sweetest,  noblest  woman  he  had  ever  met — 
he  admitted  that  to  himself — and  the  hatred  of  a  strong 
man,  as  he  now  realized  Guy  to  be?  He  pressed  his 
hands  to  his  head,  and  thought  and  thought  all  the  way 
to  the  castle,  trying  to  comprehend  how  he  could  work 
some  good  to  himself  out  of  the  despair  he  had  wrought. 

It  never  once  occurred  to  him  to  undo  his  work  and 
pour  balm  on  two  torn  and  bleeding  hearts.  All  his  sym- 
pathy for  Violet  was  fading  away  in  the  thought  of  the 
little  that  was  to  corne  to  him  for  his  day's  work.  Then  a 
sudden  thought  came,  and  when  the  carriage  drew  up  at 
the  castle  his  face  was  deathly  white  and  his  eyes  furtive  ; 
but  no  one  saw  the  look  on  his  face  but  the  footman,  and 
he  did  not  give  it  a  second  thought. 

It  had  been  Lord  Coldenham's  intention  to  seek  Lady 
Darlington  at  once  on  returning,  but  now  he  went 
straight  to  his  own  apartments,  sending  word  to  Lady 
Darlington  of  his  return,  and  asking  her  to  see  him.  Then 
he  went  to  his  dressing-room  and  sat  at  his  wri Mug-table, 
writing  and  re-writing  until  he  hit  upon  the  words  to  suit 
him. 

Lady  Darlington's  eager  message  that  she  would  see 
him  in  her  own  parlor  came  to  him.  but  he  did  not  heed  it 
until  he  had  finished  his  work.  Then  he  looked  in  the 


TWENTY 


J'OUNDS. 


mirror,  composed  himself  as  an  actor  might  before  goL 
on  the  stage,  and  went  to  meet  Lady  Darlington   n 
Coldenharn  should  meet  her. 

But  Lady  Darlington  was  too   anxious  to   be   cereinoi 
ous,  and   the   marquis  was  no  sooner   alone  with  her  thj 
she   leaned   forward  in  her  chair  with  clasped   hands,  di 
manding : 

"What  has  happened?1' 

"I  found  them— 

"Yes,  yes." 

"And  they  are  separated." 

"Oh,  my  Lord  Coldenham  !  how  can  I  ever  thank  y< 
enough  for  what  you  have  done— done  for  my  boy  as  w< 
as  for  myself  ?" 

"No  thanks  are  needed,  Lady  Darlington.     I  suppose 
may  be  said  that  I  was  thinking  of  Sibyl  as   well   as 
Guy.     I  felt  that  I  had  a  common  interest  with  you." 

"  But  I  must  thank  you.     And  you  have  had  a  hard  dai 
of  it.     I  can  see  it  in  your  face." 

Lord  Coldenham  started  strangely,  and  a  chill  ran  ov< 
him. 

Yes,"  he  answered,  in  a  low  tone,  as   if   his  voice   hi 
suddenly  failed  him,  "it  has  been  a  hard  day.     I  had 
looked  for  so  much  opposition." 

"From  whom?"  demanded  Lady  Darlington,  sharply. 

"From — both.     Guy  was  infatuated,  Lady  Darlington] 
You  were  right   in    saying  he    was,  and    I   think   he  will 
never  forgive  me  for  my  part  in  it,  but  I  did   what  wt 
best  for  him  and — us." 

Lady  Darlington  did  not  notice    the  hesitation   witl 
which  he  spoke,  nor  the  way  in  which   he   avoided  ^ 

into  the  particulars  of  the  meeting ;  but  he  noticed  it  hinii 
self,  and  his  effort  to  conquer  the  feeling  made  his  tongiu 
lag  in  its  office. 

"You  do  not  know  Guy,  Lord   Coldenham,"  said   Lad; 
Darlington.     "He  may  be  angry  now.     He  would  be  morel 
than  human   if  he   were   not ;  but  he  will  soon  have  for- 
gotten  this   girl,  and  you   need   have  no  fear  that  he  wi 
remember  your  kindness  against  you." 

"I  fear  that  it  is  you  who  do  not  know  Guy,  Lady  Dar-i 
lington— at  least  the  Guy  that  I  met  this  morning.  I  wasi 
astonished.  I  am  sure  that  if  I  had  not  by  good  fortune! 
had  the  opportunity  to  see  the  girl  alone  first  sho  would 
never  have  been  persuaded  to  leave  him.  He  would  not] 
have  permitted  her  to  listen  to  me." 

"It  was  an  interposition  of  Providence  that  you  saw  her! 


TWENTY  THOUSAND  POUNDS.  87 

alone,"  said  Lady  Darlington,  who  found  it  easy  to  com- 
prehend that  the  assistance  of  Providence  would  naturally 
be  with  her.  "But  where  has  she  gone?  Where  is  Guy? 
But  you  must  be  weary— too  weary  to  talk.  I  can  see 
that  you  are.1' 

"Yes,11  answered  Lord  Coldenham,  "I  am  weary,  but 
now  I  will  tell  you  briefly  what  has  happened.  After- 
ward I  will  tell  you  everything." 

uDo  not  tire  yourself,"  said  Lady  Darlington  ;  but  he 
could  see  that  she  was  eager  to  know  the  details  of  what 
hud  happened,  and  for  reasons  of  his  own  he  did  not  wish 
to  seem  loth  to  tell  them  to  her. 

"The  girl,"  he  said,  slowly,  uis  at  her  father's.  T  would 
not  trust  her  out  of  my  sight.  I  thought  it  would  be 
wiser  not  to.  I  do  not  know  where  Guy  is.  He  went 
from  us,  and  I  have  not  seen  him  since." 

Then  the  mother's  fears  triumphed  for  a  moment. 

"You  do  not  believe  that  he  has  done  anything— rash  ?" 

"No.  I  think  it  is  quite  likely  that  he  will  take  to  dis- 
sipation for  a  time  to  drown  his  grief.  I  jihink  that  is  the 
usual  way,"  be  added,  with  a  hard,  cynical  smile. 

"Not  with  Guy,"  said  Lady  Darlington.  "I  sometimes 
wish  he  was  more  given  that  way.  No,  he  will  return 
lere,  I  am  certain." 

Lord  Coldenham  smiled  at  the  infatuation  of  the 
mother. 


